


Fourth Inning

by AnnaTheHank



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 1967, All canon characters live, Angst, Angst With A Bittersweet Ending, Assisted Suicide, Cancer Arc, Endgame Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Original Character Death(s), Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Quote: You go too fast for me Crowley (Good Omens), a little bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2020-10-05 22:55:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 20,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20496698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaTheHank/pseuds/AnnaTheHank
Summary: In another attempt to 'get over' Aziraphale, Crowley goes out to find a random guy to get with. He didn't expect to find Christopher, and he doubly didn't expect to find himself falling in love with the guy. And when he gets a cancer that Crowley can't seem to cure, he can only turn to Aziraphale for help.





	1. The Jiggy Floor

**Author's Note:**

> SO, I'll just say. As someone who rarely writes Angst, when I do, I go big.  
Thank you all for stopping by to read it! I hope you enjoy it, even though it's going to be painful to write.

Crowley grumbled, hands in his pockets as he sauntered down the street. There was an old soda can on the side of the road and he couldn’t just not kick it. He smiled to himself, watching it fly across the street. Then he returned to his sullen sulking and continued on his way.

“Too fast,” he mumbled, huffing a bit. “He goes too fast.”

He sighed and stood still. He needed to let off some steam. And there was only one place in Soho he could go for that. Well, technically there were rather about a dozen places he could go for that but there was only one that was actually worth going to.

The only thing about this place that put Crowley off was the name. The Jiggy Floor. Crowley despised it. Who on earth would name a nightclub the Jiggy Floor? Well, the current owners that’s who. The name was only a trivial concern, however. For the dance floor of the Jiggy Floor was always filled with the most sinfully delicious men Crowley could find. And he needed to indulge in some sin.

Crowley skipped the line, the bouncer welcoming him in with a nod. There were some perks to being a returning customer. He liked to think he wasn’t here all that often. After all, he had work to do. But, well, he went too fast apparently.

The music was as loud and as gaudy as the name of the club. The lights blinked on and off in his face, making him squint a bit to adjust. There were a few men sprawled out about the side of the room, hanging around the bar or stalking about. Crowley made his way to the tangled mess of bodies dancing about in the center. 

He walked gingerly through the crowd, eyes bouncing from body to body, frowning slightly, looking all the part like a snake hunting for its next meal. None of them seemed to really be sating his appetite, despite the interested looks he got from a few. 

He spun through a few times, mulling over the options before he eventually decided that none of them were really going to be worth the effort so he might as well just leave and find other ways to release his stress. At least, that was what he thought before he saw Christopher. 

His hair was a soft blond, reminiscent of a certain angel. He was sitting against the wall, legs drawn up to his chest, notebook resting on his knees as the pencil in his hand scribbled across the page. He glanced up every few seconds, watching the crowds with his dull blue eyes before he returned his attention to the page on his lap.

Crowley watched as a man, with a smirk on his face, walked past, knocking his foot against the other man’s leg. Christopher looked up at him, smiled a bit, then looked back down at his paper as the man walked away, looking at him over his shoulder.

Crowley was intrigued, to say the least. 

“Planning a caper?” Crowley asked, slithering up to the man, standing against the wall with crossed arms, glancing down at the paper.

He smiled, looking up at Crowley. “So what if I am? You a cop? Gonna arrest me?”

Crowley couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Flirting off the bat? That was always exciting.

“Perhaps I am,” Crowley crooned back. 

The man’s smile turned into a smirk, his eyes wandering up and down Crowley’s body as he closed his notebook and stood up. “And who do I have the honor of being arrested by tonight?”

“Anthony,” Crowley said, holding his hand out. The other man took it, one eyebrow raised. “Crowley.”

“Crowley?” he asked as they shook hands. “That’s an interesting name. Where’s your family from?”

“Oh, uh, bit aways down south,” Crowley said, clearing his throat a bit. “And yourself?”

“Christopher Smith, I’m afraid,” Christopher responded, his smile falling. “Not very interesting, I know.”

“Ought to come up with a new one,” Crowley said. “Afterall, who’s going to know the difference?”

“Fair point,” Christopher said. “But,” he shrugged, “I’m afraid my creative inspiration is all wound up in art, not so much wordsmithing.”

Crowley shifted a bit, his body unconsciously showing its attraction to this man. “Art, huh?”

Christopher nodded and handed Crowley his notebook. Crowley took it, leafing through the pages. It was mostly landscape art, with a few portraits here and there. And in the back, the last image made was of the dance club. Most of the men on the floor had been smudged, a delicate finger rubbed across the graphite. The one who stood out was Crowley, nothing but sharp lines and hungry expression.

Crowley nodded. “Not bad,” he said. 

“Better than,” Christopher said, taking the book back. “They’re good.”

Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle. He liked it when humans were confident and brash, none of that being shy or faking their talents. And this guy certainly had talent. 

Crowley shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, wanna get out of here?”

Christopher smirked, leaning against the wall, arms crossing and holding the notebook to his chest. “Well, that depends. Where are we going?”

Crowley mirrored his lean. “Anywhere you’d like,” he said, meaning it fully.

Christopher leaned forward, capturing Crowley’s lips in a kiss. It wasn’t the first time Crowley had kissed a guy in the club. It was, however, the first time he properly enjoyed it. 

Pulling back, Christopher licked his lips with a sinfully delicious smirk on his face. He nodded. “Just had to make sure it was worth it,” he said. Then he spun around and walked towards the exit.

After a moment of collecting himself, Crowley followed.

-

Crowley flopped back against the bed, mattress squeaking with his bounce. It had been a while since he had been out of breath like that. Even longer since he had had sex with someone that had made him feel that good. The last one had been DaVinci, but that he just chalked that one up to the alcohol. This had been sober and divine.

Christopher lay next to him, panting. They were just two, sweat-soaked bodies blissed out of their minds on the endorphins of good sex. 

“So,” Christopher said, voice heavy as he looked over at Crowley. “Tell me about him.”

Crowley cocked an eyebrow. “Who?”

“The guy that you are so clearly in love with that you’re trying to replace with me.”

Crowley stuttered for a bit. Was he really that obvious? “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he finally said. 

Christopher gave him a smile and turned on his side, head resting against his hand. “I don’t mind,” he said. “I’m just curious.”

Crowley blinked. Then he figured, what the hell? Aziraphale had always told him he needed to start ‘talking’ about his ‘emotions’. And it wasn’t like he was ever going to see this guy again after tonight.

With a sigh, Crowley turned on his side to face Christopher. “His name’s Aziraphale,” he said.

Christopher gave him a look. “And is he also from somewhere down south?”

“North, actually,” Crowley said. “And that’s the problem, I guess.”

Christopher shuffled closer and Crowley was drawn to that heat. “Tell me more.”

Crowley rolled onto his back, closing his eyes. “He’s just...he’s perfect, you know? Fucking beautiful as ever and just…” he sighed again hands covering his face. He had never talked about it out loud before. It was equally embarrassing and cathartic. “He’s just the best person I know.”

Christopher laid back as well. “Known him long?”

Crowley nodded. “Practically since forever.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

Crowley frowned, the hint of a growl at his throat. If only he fucking knew. It’s not like he wanted to be this far apart. It’s not like he didn’t want to be together. It was all Aziraphale. At least, that’s what he told himself. But if that was all it was…”Our families don’t exactly get along,” he said, pushing away the knowing image of him running away screaming if Aziraphale ever asked him out. 

“Ah,” Christopher said. He shuffled another inch closer, his hand dangerously close to Crowley’s thigh. “A regular Romeo and Juliet scenario, huh?”

Crowley knew there was a reason he hated that damn play. “Yeah,” he said. He dropped his arms, his own hand landing on Christopher’s. He gulped. It felt nice, the way Christopher tangled their fingers together, squeezed them just a bit.

Crowley’s entire body flushed. He pulled away, grabbing for his clothes (splayed about the room wildly) as he got out of bed. “Sorry,” he said, sounding every bit as lame as he felt. “I should go.”

“You don’t have to,” Christopher said, sitting up on his elbows, eyes following Crowley around the room.

“No, I have, uh, work.” Crowley grimaced at himself, pulling his clothes on, his shirt on backward. 

“Anthony,” Christopher said just as Crowley’s hand was on the doorknob. Crowley stopped and looked at him. “I hope you can work things out with Aziraphale. But if you can’t, well, you know where I live.” He blushed, a slight tinge of pink on his cheeks and smiled a bit.

“Right,” Crowley said, having to gather himself after that face. “See ya.”

He raced out of the room. And for as much as he planned to stay far, far away from that man and his dangerous expressions, he also instinctively knew that what he said wasn’t a lie.


	2. The best worst first date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gotta get all the fluffy goodness out of the way first

Crowley really hadn’t planned to end up back in Christopher’s bed. But that weekend he was lazing about his flat, eyeing up the safe with the holy water in it, and feeling absolutely pathetic. He knew it was a bad idea. He knew seeing more of this man with his soft features and delicate smile would only lead to turmoil. But his hands seemed to have a mind of his own. They picked up his phone and dialed the number he knew would be his.

“Hello?”

The voice was as airy and light as Crowley remembered. He stood there, panicking for a moment, before his brain regained control of his body and he quickly hung up.

He stared at the phone like it was the sun. What was he thinking? Calling up after some guy like a lovesick puppy. He had to get a grip. The sex wasn’t that good.

The phone rang and Crowley jumped. There was no way it could be him, he told himself, reaching gingerly for the phone. No way.

“Yeah?” he said, holding the phone to his ear.

“Crowley?” It was Aziraphale. “Oh, good.”

Aziraphale didn’t call him often. “Everything alright?” He closed his eyes. All he could hear from that voice was denial. Denial of feelings. Denial of love.

“Oh, yes. Quite well, actually. Just thought I’d...check in.” Aziraphale chuckled nervously and Crowley’s pain turned to annoyance. 

“I told you it wasn’t for that,” he said, growling a bit. He ran a hand down his face, feeling very tired despite the time of day.

“I know.” Aziraphale was quiet for a moment and Crowley was having too much emotion to say anything himself. “Well...glad to hear it, anyway. Goodbye.”

Crowley let Aziraphale hang up. He placed the phone back on the receiver and stood there, shoulders slumped. He figured it was a good enough time as any to take a nap.

-

He only managed to get a week in before a dream woke him up. It was a common dream. It was about Aziraphale, of course. It always changed yet was always the same. They were together. Properly. They were happy. They were holding hands. Sometimes they were kissing.

Crowley threw the covers off with a grown, scowling as he sat on the edge of the bed. His body took over again, carrying him down the hall to the phone. He wasn't even aware he was calling someone until Christopher answered.

“Uh, hi,” he said.

There was a pause. “May I ask who’s calling?” Christopher said, a smile that Crowley could hear in his voice.

“It’s Anthony,” he said. “Crowley.”

Another pause. And of course he wasn’t going to remember him. They had had sex once a week ago it’s not like he expected the guy to be waiting around all hung up on him. He was about to hang up when-

“I take it still no luck with Aziraphale then, huh?”

Crowley blinked. Then breathed out a laugh. “Yeah.”

“When did you get my number?” Crowley’s mind went blank. How could he explain it away without revealing his demonic nature. “Oh my god,” Christopher continued as Crowley stuttered for an answer. “You really are a cop, aren’t you?”

“N-no!” Crowley cleared his throat. “I, uh, work for a phone company is all.”

He knew Christopher was squinting. “A phone company?”

“Yeah. I work in customer service,” he said, even though Christopher hadn’t asked. “And it’s not like I looked you up or anything,” he hurriedly continued. “I just saw your name in a list is all!”

Christopher chuckled softly. “Lot of Christopher Smith’s I figure. Hope you didn’t bother too many.”

Crowley smiled, confident that his lie had worked. “Got lucky I guess.” He swallowed, willing himself not to ask. “Any plans tonight?”

“Not yet.”

“Dinner?”

“Pick me up at six.”

“See you then.”

Crowley placed the phone down and took a shaky breath. “Dammit!” he said. “Damn, damn, dammit!” 

What was he thinking? He couldn’t go to dinner with this human. He couldn’t take him on a date. He groaned, already reaching for the phone. He stopped. It wasn’t like he was dating him. He could go on one date right? It didn’t mean anything. It wasn’t like it had to happen again.

Besides, he told himself, the sex was really good so no use wasting the opportunity. 

He nodded, confident in his decision, and went to figure out where he would take him.

-

Crowley pulled up in front of the flat Christopher lived in. He was already standing outside, waiting. He wore a simple button up white shirt and clean black slacks. A green sweater was draped over his arm.

He smiled as Crowley pulled up and Crowley knew this was a bad idea. Because when he looked at that smile he could swear his heart stopped beating. Not that it ever really needed to. But it was an uncomfortable sensation. 

“Nice ride,” Christopher said, climbing into the passenger seat. 

“Thanks.” 

Crowley took off as Christopher was still buckling. He had a new plan. Since he couldn’t trust himself to keep away, he would just get Christopher to hate him, and then he couldn’t be around him. It was perfect. 

Christopher grabbed at the handlebar as Crowley sped his way down the street. His eyes were wide. Crowley smirked. No one in their right mind would date a maniac like him. 

Then he took a sharp corner and Christopher laughed.

Damn.

They pulled into a spot at the restaurant, Christopher’s face flushed a bit and his breath hard. “Well that was exhilarating,” he said, his voice an airy laugh.

“Sorry,” Crowley said. “I’m just like that,” he added for emphasis.

Christopher gave him a deadly smirk. “Good.” He got out of the car, pulling his green sweater over his head.

Crowley frowned. “It’s not all that cold,” he said, getting out himself.

“No, but I don’t want to be overdressed.” Christopher gestured to the crowded building. It was a pretty casual place. Crowley figured it was better to go someplace that wasn’t too relaxing or romantic.

Crowley nodded and followed him inside. It was loud. There was a seat-yourself policy and half the tables were scrunched together to make room for a dance floor in front of a live band. It was disgusting, and Crowley smiled to himself. The worst kind of date there is.

Only Christopher didn’t seem to share his non enthusiasm. He grabbed Crowley’s arm and led him through the throng of people to a table in the back corner. Only to find it was miraculously taken just before they got there. This kept happening until they were forced up to a table right next to the speakers for the band. Much too loud for conversation, Crowley noted. 

The waitress couldn’t even hear their orders and they ended up with not even close to what they had said. Christopher didn’t seem to mind, however, happily eating away at the salad he had been given. He had ordered a burger. It was shaping up to be a terrible evening, Crowley figured. Perfect. 

Crowley watched Christopher watch the crowd. He was staring at the couples that had taken to the dance floor. And it was the first hint of sadness that he had given that whole evening, and even that was small. Crowley frowned as well. Stupid humans and their idiotic social norms. He remembered a time where two guys could dance together without any judgment.

Oh well, just another nail in the coffin for the date.

“Hey,” Christopher shouted over the music. “Want to go someplace for desert?”

Crowley pretended like he couldn’t hear him. Christopher got up and leaned over, his breath hot against Crowley’s ear as he spoke his question again. Without waiting for a reply, he started heading towards the exit. 

Crowley left a tip on the table and followed him out. The sun was long gone now, and a gentle chill actually did fill the air. “Where to?” Crowley asked, heading towards the car.

“Just down the block,” Christopher said, grabbing his arm. “Nice night for a walk.”

Crowley let himself be dragged down the street, all the while wondering the best course of action to break off the contact without being too terribly rude. Of course, he figured, that probably would get Christopher to not like him anymore. And he wanted that, obviously, just maybe not in that way.

By the time they reached the ice cream shop, Christopher still had a hold of his arm. Unfortunately, the air conditioning in the building seemed to be broken. Certainly couldn’t sit and eat in there no you could not. What a shame.

But Christopher still ordered an already half-melted cone of vanilla ice cream with hot fudge, which just melted it faster. He licked around the edges of the cone as they walked, his pink tongue darting out to catch the white dribbles as they threatened his fingers.

Crowley watched with wide eyes. Christopher caught his gaze and smirked. Of course. The little fucker knew exactly what he was doing. Crowley growled a bit, trying to fight the heat that rose in his body. But by the time they made it back to the car he was ready to go feral. 

Not caring who was around to see, Crowley pushed Christopher against the side of the car, hands grabbing at his waist as he kissed him, tasting the vanilla on his lips and tongue. It was the most delicious thing he’d ever known. 

Christopher laughed into the kiss and brought his hands up to cup Crowley’s face. “So,” he said between kisses, “My place, then?”

Crowley’s body took over, nodding and nibbling on Christopher’s bottom lip before pulling away. His body kept complete control that night, not even giving his mind the chance to try and talk him out of it. 

Despite better judgement, he even spent the night.


	3. The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These dorks  
I love them  
They're just...ugh  
It makes what I'm gonna do to them hurt so much more pls save me

Crowley was happy when he woke up. Which hadn’t happened...ever? He usually slept when he was sad, and so he was usually sad when he woke up. But he had been happy, falling asleep next to Christopher. And he was happy to wake up to him.

Christopher's face was perfectly framed by the sun that was starting to rise. A soft blue and pink light against his skin. His eyes fluttered under the lids as he snored softly. His hair was a mess, all tangled and thrown about. Crowley smiled, reaching out involuntarily to run his fingers through it, remembering well how it had been his fingers that had messed it up in the first place. 

Christopher moved a bit, letting out a soft sigh. Crowley remembered himself and pulled his hand back, his face burning at the intimate moment. He rolled on his back and looked around the small room at his clothes, once more strewn about. They really did make a mess, didn’t they?

For a moment, Crowley considered leaving. He should go, shouldn’t he? He hadn’t exactly been invited to stay the night, had just sort of, fallen asleep. What if Christopher didn’t want him here when he woke up? Then again, he shouldn’t just leave without saying anything, right? He should...leave a note? No, that was lame. 

Breakfast!

That’s what humans did after a night together! But should he take him out somewhere...no! He should cook, right? That’s more romantic. Isn’t it? What was he thinking? He wasn’t trying to be romantic. He ran a hand down his face. He was trying to stop this runaway train, not fuel its fire.

Then Christopher turned over, one arm draping over Crowley’s chest. He mumbled a bit, taking in a sharp breath before releasing it, warm and hot against Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Morning,” Christopher said.

“Uh, yeah.” Crowley shook his head at himself. 

Christopher chuckled and snuggled closer. “No work today? At the phone company?”

Crowley bit his lip. He was totally buying it. “Not until later,” he said. Which was great. It gave him a good chance to escape in the future.

Christopher nodded, a soft grin on his face as his eyes flickered open. “You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

Christopher rolled back, stretching, the covers dipping dangerously low. “There’s this great place just down the street that has the best waffles.”

“Waffles sound good.”

Christopher turned his head to look at him. His eyes, usually dull, were so bright with the sunlight on them. Bright like an angel’s. Like one, particular angel’s. Crowley had to look away.

“I need a shower first,” Christopher announced. He crawled out of bed and Crowley closed his eyes. “Only be a minute.”

Crowley heard the shower turn on and deemed it safe to look. Christopher had left the door to the bathroom open. If Crowley leaned forward from where he sat on the bed, he could see him. He leaned back, reaching for his shirt. 

He shouldn’t go in, right? Well...Christopher did leave the door open...Was that an invitation? Or had he simply forgotten to close the door? That did happen sometimes. And he didn’t want to go in if he wasn’t welcome.

Unless he was trying to break it off. 

Which he was.

Wasn’t he?

Crowley growled, too tired to figure that out. He gathered the rest of his clothes and got dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting. He tried not to let himself get consumed by the image of hot, steamy water running over Christopher’s body. Unfortunately, he replaced that image by a very similar one featuring Aziraphale. 

The shower cut off, giving Crowley a bit of salvation as he brought his attention to the door. Christopher walked out a minute later, wearing a pair of dark, loose jeans, and that same oversized green sweater. He saw Crowley and smirked, running the towel over his hair.

“You ready?”

Crowley nodded, his mouth suddenly too dry to speak.

-

The place literally was just down the street. It was a small and crowded dinner. Christopher had insisted they wait for a table rather than sitting at the bar and Crowley tried not to let that mean too much. It couldn’t mean much right? 

They settled into a little booth in the corner, Crowley not even thinking about using his powers to get them a less comfy space until it was already too late. Oh well. He could always make sure the air was blowing just a little too much on their table.

“So,” Christopher said, leaning back in his seat a bit, hands folded on the table. “Want to talk about what happened?’

Crowley nearly choked on his coffee. “I’m sorry?”

“With Aziraphale,” Christopher explained. Crowley calmed down a bit. “I mean, I assume something happened. You did call me out of the blue after a week.”

Crowley shook his head. “N-nothing happened. I just...uh,” what had he said again? “Oh yeah! I just saw your number on my list is all. Then remembered, oh yeah, that guy.”

“Oh yeah that guy?” Christopher raised an eyebrow.

“Not like that!” Crowley said. “I definitely was thinking about you. But! Not, like, too much! Certainly, just the right amount that one should!”

Thankfully, the waiter arrived to take their order, saving Crowley from eating his entire foot. 

Christopher had a bemused smile on his face. Crowley noticed how he and the waiter made eye contact, the waiter looking him over. The nerve, Crowley thought, gripping his fork tight. Couldn’t this guy see that they were together?

Wait.

They weren’t together.

Right?

“What are you so focused on?” Christopher asked once the waiter and his flirting eyes were gone.

“Uh…” Crowley’s brain couldn’t think fast enough. It threw out the first excuse that came to mind. “Just you.” Then he heard himself and groaned, hanging his head.

Christopher laughed. “You’re cute.”

Crowley’s head snapped up. “What?”

Christopher smiled at him over his mug. “I said you’re cute.” He took a drink.

All of Crowley’s skin was on fire and he almost considered grabbed the cup of water from the table next to them to douse himself with.

“Look.” Christopher leaned back again. “I don’t want to...overstep. But...Well I like you. Or, find you interesting at least. And I’d like to get to know you more.”

This is it, Crowley thought. This is your moment. Get out now, while you still can. Tell him he’s ugly, he’s boring, he’s terrible in bed. RUN!

“Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that too.”

Christopher smiled at him, taking another sip of his coffee. Crowley swallowed the lump in his throat.

What the hell was wrong with him?


	4. Getting to know you

“Here’s how it works,” Christopher said, placing the two shot glasses on the table. Crowley adjusted his legs under the coffee table. “I’ll say a statement, and if you’ve done it before, you take a shot.”

Christopher sat down opposite of Crowley and smiled. Crowley couldn’t help but smile back. 

“We’ll start off easy.” He poured the vodka into their glasses. “Never have I ever talked to another human being before.”

Smirking Crowley through about not taking a drink. After all, he couldn’t speak to another human being if he wasn’t a human being. But he didn’t want to be ‘like that’ so he took a shot with him. 

“Now you go.”

Crowley bit his lip. This was essentially what he had wanted. When Christopher had suggested getting to know each other he had hoped for something laid back and easy, no drilling each other with relentless questioning. However, he was drawing a blank on what to ask that fell within the realms of the game.

“Okay,” he said, refilling their glasses. “Never have I ever stolen anything.” 

They both downed their drinks. Crowley shook his head.

“Naughty, naughty,” he said, chuckling.

“Shut up,” Christopher said, a slight blush on his cheeks. “You did, too!”

Christopher filled their glasses, glaring at Crowley, who just chuckled at him again. “Alright, mister giggles. Never have I ever been kicked out of a bar?”

Christopher downed his drink and stared at the un-moving Crowley with wide eyes. He slammed the glass down, open hand slapping the table. “You’re joking? Never?”

Crowley shook his head. One of the perks of being a demon, he figured. 

“You’re lying,” Christopher said, leaning back a bit.

“Prove it.”

Christopher bit his lip and it was the most adorable thing Crowley had seen. He wanted to kiss him, to bite that lip himself, pull it between his teeth, bother it until it turned all plump and red. He adjusted himself under the table again, telling himself that he wasn’t aroused. 

“Fine.” Christopher refilled his glass and squinted at Crowley. “Your turn.”

Crowley was really enjoying watching Christopher lose. He was cute, huffing about, the three shots already showing on his face. Crowley smirked.

“Never have I ever been in a committed relationship before.”

Christopher hesitated, then downed his glass. He placed it down slowly, staring at the un-drunken glass on Crowley’s side of the table.

“Okay. Now I know you’re lying.”

Crowley shook his head. “I’m not.”

“Wow.” Christopher leaned back, holding onto the edge of the table. “You have been seriously hung up on this Aziazhell guy, huh?”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, laughing.

“Azir...aiza...that guy.” Christopher folded his arms on the table and rested his head against them. “This was supposed to get you drunk, not me.”

“Oh, I see,” Crowley said. “Never have I ever used this game to get someone drunk.”

“It’s not your turn,” Christopher whined. But he lifted his head, reading across the table and grabbing Crowley’s cup. He tossed it down and sighed. “I seriously can’t believe you’ve never dated anyone cause of this guy.”

“Well...yeah.” Crowley shrugged. “What about you? Who’d you date before?”

Christopher smiled softly, leaning his head back down, staring out to the wall. “Oh, just some guy.”

“Right.” Now, Crowley was interested. “Does this guy have a name?”

“Sure does.” Christopher closed his eyes. For a second Crowley thought he had fallen asleep. “It just, wasn’t a good deal, you know?”

Crowley leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “What do you mean?”

“He wasn’t a good person.” Christopher turned his head, sitting it up on his chin to look at Crowley. 

“Oh.” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

“I mean, you know.” Christopher pulled one arm out and waved at Crowley’s face. “Black eye, yeah?” He blinked, his eyes already glossing over. If Crowley wasn’t too busy freaking out, he might have thought to comment on how much of a lightweight he was. “I figure, family problems? Dad right?”

Oh shit oh shit oh shit. Crowley straightened up. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Should he lie? Should he go along with his assumption? Should he have a black eye?

No no no no no. That was stupid. There was a heavy weight to the atmosphere and Crowley felt like he was choking. He wanted it to go away. He wanted that sad look in Christopher’s eyes to go away. 

He swallowed hard and took off his glasses. “Nope, just weird eyes.” He chuckled nervously, hoping it wouldn’t seem like he was making light of what had been said.

Christopher’s eyes grew wide. “Holy shit.” He sat up, leaning over the table and staring at them. “They’re…”

“Weird, yeah.” Crowley shrugged. “Weird birth defect.”

“Beautiful,” Christopher breathed out. He startled. “Don’t move! I gotta draw them.”

He stumbled to his feet, rushing to the desk in the corner of the room. He started digging through the drawers, pulling out some paper.

“You really don’t have to,” Crowley said, already moving to put them back on.

“No, no! I do!” Christopher smiled at him over his shoulder and Crowley’s body forgot how to move. “I promise I’ll be quick! I just gotta find my colors.”

Crowley could breathe again when Christopher went back to the desk. He got up and sat on the couch, watching Christopher move about. He felt strange without his glasses, almost naked. But he had made Christopher be a little vulnerable so it was only fair.

“Aha!” Christopher pulled out a pack of colored pencils and rushed over, the couch bouncing as he fell into it. “Okay, now, look at me and don’t move.”

Crowley gulped and followed orders. It helped a little that Christopher wasn’t exactly looking him in the eye. He was scanning over them, looking up and down between Crowley’s face and the page. He had four different yellows out and was using all of them. 

Crowley furrowed his eyebrows and distracted himself by trying to remember what his eyes looked like. It was better than focusing on how close they were, both physically and emotionally. Better than noticing how hot the room was getting, or was it just him? Better than thinking about someone out there in the world had hurt Christopher and all the different ways Crowley was going to torture him before killing him once he figured out his name. 

“Okay!” Christopher giggled and turned the paper around. “What do you think?”

Crowley knew Christopher had talent but this was incredible. He hadn’t ever been ‘ashamed’ of his eyes before, just weird. Because they reminded him day in and day out of what he was. Of who he was. People were scared when they saw his eyes. 

But there was no fear in this drawing. If anything, Crowley would say he looked, well, to use Christopher’s word, beautiful. 

“It’s uh...it’s good,” he said. 

Christopher chuckled softly and leaned his head against the couch, eyes closing. 

“You okay?” Crowley asked.

Christopher nodded. “Yeah, just got a bit of head ache.”

Crowley smiled and leaned down with him. “Probably those four shots you had.”

“Five,” Christopher said, holding up an open hand. 

“My mistake.”

Christopher opened his eyes, licking his lips a bit. “You know. I read somewhere once that sex is a great cure for head aches.”

“Is that so?”

Christopher nodded and shifted forward, pressing his lips to Crowley's. Crowley smiled, kissing him back. 

He left the sunglasses off that night.


	5. Settling In

It was a delicate operation, keeping up his lie. The problem was, despite his better judgement, Crowley really found he wanted to spend every waking moment with Christopher. Every sleeping moment too, come to think of it. But it was a little hard to do that when he had to work. At the phone company.

Thing was, Christopher didn’t have a job, so to speak. He worked at events, drawing portraits of couples and families at parties and festivals. So when Crowley had to get up and leave in the morning to ‘work’ at the ‘phone company’ Christopher got to stay all cuddled up on the couch, warm and inviting. 

He hated it. In fact, he was in the process of coming up with a really good lie about quitting. Or maybe getting fired? He wasn’t sure yet. He was trying to think of something that would impress Christopher, now that he was done trying to pretend that he wasn’t.

“I don’t wanna go,” Crowley whined, arms wrapping tighter around Christopher’s waist. He buried his face in the back of Christopher’s neck, kissing him gently there.

Christopher chuckled. He placed his drawing pad down and leaned back into Crowley’s embrace. “But how will you ever make money?”

Crowley grumbled. “I’ll just bank on you selling some big painting or something.”

Christopher laughed again. “I’m afraid you’ll be waiting for a while.”

Crowley shifted, his head coming to rest on Christopher’s shoulder, looking down at his paper. “Not all that long.”

Christopher turned over in his arms, placing a kiss to his lips. “Quit sweet-talking me and go to work.”

Crowley frowned. “No.”

Christopher kissed him again. “They’ll be awfully mad if you don’t show up.”

“Fuck ‘em.”

Another kiss and Crowley grabbed the back of his head, holding him in place. Christopher smiled into the kiss, hands resting on Crowley’s hips as he turned the lower half of his body to lean further into him. 

“See you tonight?” Christopher asked, successfully pulling away. 

Crowley’s frown deepened. “Yeah, yeah.” Christopher kissed him on the cheek and he wiggled his way off the couch. “I could always just call out sick.”

“Lovesick maybe,” Christopher said. He settled back down on the couch, shit-eating grin on his face. 

“Shut-up.” Crowley grabbed his glasses off the table and put them on. He resisted the urge to fall back onto the couch, covering Christopher in a million kisses, and went on his way to ‘work’.

-

As he drove away, he actually did get a job. A couple of temptations in Australia. That could take days if he ran into any trouble. He mulled it over. On the one hand, it would probably do him some good to get away, get back to his actual job. On the other, he wasn’t terribly a big fan of being away from Christopher so long. 

Crowley groaned, rolling his eyes. Lovesick indeed, he thought. He shuddered at the thought, but it didn’t disgust him as much as it used to.

Crowley popped back to his apartment. He stopped by the phone. There were two people he could call. He could call Christopher and cancel on the night, saying he had work to do (and try to figure out a lie that made sense). Or…

Crowley picked up the phone, picking at his fingernails as the other line rang. 

“Hello?” 

“Aziraphale! Excellent. Look, I need a favor.”

Aziraphale sighed. “Crowley. I rather think I’ve already done you one.”

“Nothing like that,” Crowley said, waving the idea away. “It’s about the...Arrangement.”

“Oh.” There was a shuffling sound on the other line. “Well, I was just about to head to Ireland for a blessing.”

“Excellent! I can go do that for you and you go to Australia for a few temptations? Good? Good.”

“Wait a minute,” Aziraphale said, stopping Crowley from hanging up. “Why can’t you go to Australia?”

“I’m...busy.”

“So how are you going to go to Ireland?”

“Well, I meant, I’m busy tonight. But I’m free now. So I’ll go to Ireland and wrap that up real quick, yes? Are we good?”

“What are you busy doing tonight?”

Crowley blinked. He had never asked that before. “Does...does it matter? I’m busy.”

“Well, I’m allowed to be curious, aren’t I?”

“Wha-no. Look, just, are we on or not?”

“Everything’s alright isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. You got Australia, right?”

Aziraphale sighed. “Yes, alright, fine. I’ll go to Australia.”

“Great, thanks!”

Crowley hung up and sighed, rubbing at his eyes. Ireland wasn’t so bad, he figured, getting ready. Gave him something to do during the day and he’d still be back in time to spend the night with Christopher. It was a perfect plan.

-

It was an imperfect plan. The blessing in Ireland took way too long. But of course Crowley didn’t realize that. He was too busy spending the whole time thinking of all the fun he was going to have that night with Christopher. (The blessing didn’t go as entirely well as it should have, but really, who was going to notice.)

He didn’t even think of the time as he drove back to Christopher’s. He knocked on the door and waited. 

That was when he figured it out, his eyes going wide as he thought about how, even on this busy street, the lights had been dim and street quieter than normal. He grimaced and looked down at his watch. It was just after 2 in the morning. 

Crowley started to tip-toe away when the door lock clicked and the door creaked open. Christoper stood there, the light of the flat spilling out behind him. He was squinting into the hall and was wearing his large, green sweater. And nothing else.

“Anthony?” he asked, voice laden with sleep.

Crowley couldn’t tear his eyes away from the legs that peaked out from under the sweater. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I, uh, didn’t realize how late it was.”

The door opened more, the sweater rising up a bit as Christopher moved his arm out to hold it. “Everything okay?”

Crowley nodded. Christopher closed his eyes and smiled a bit before he stood to the side, gesturing in. Blushing, Crowley entered the flat.

Christopher rubbed at his face as he closed the door. “Work problems?” he asked. 

Crowley’s mind stopped racing. He had been trying to come up with a good enough lie that would explain both him being late and him showing up at 2 in the morning. But this, this wasn’t a lie. He almost broke into a smile. “Yeah! Yeah, work problems.”

“Lot of calls at the phone company?” Christopher walked into the little kitchen, flicking on the coffee maker. He reached into the cupboard above it, the sweater rising even higher. 

Crowley had to look away. Back to lying. “Oh, yeah. Lots! And uh, one really big one at the end. They were from China! ‘S why they were up so late. Well, for us. Early for them, you know.”

Christopher filled the machine and placed his hands on the counter, squinting at Crowley. “What phone company services both England and China?”

“Uh...oh, well, it’s a new company,” Crowley said, swallowing hard. “You wouldn’t have heard of it.”

Christopher raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

Crowley scratched at his head. He totally bombed that, he knew it. “Look, uh, sorry again. I should just, I’ll go. I promise I won’t stop by like this again. Just, lost track of time.”

“Oh no.” Christopher held his hand up. The machine dripped coffee into the pot. “You woke me up. And your punishment for said act shall be having sex with me.”

Crowley smirked, body relaxing a bit. “Hardly a punishment wouldn’t you say?”

Christopher poured himself a mug of coffee and Crowley liked the look in his eye. “It will be when I’m done with you.” 

Christopher winked and took his mug into the bedroom. Crowley felt a shiver go down his entire spine. Finally, he thought, chasing after him. A guy who gets it.


	6. Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh it hurts.  
It hurts

Crowley had taken the week off of work and it was the best decision he’s ever made in his entire life. He spent a lot of his time off trying to figure out a really good way to get out of having to pretend to work so it could always be like this. 

It wasn’t often that Crowley found someone he enjoyed spending every moment with, especially if that someone was a human. He enjoyed their company occasionally, but there was something about Christopher that made him want to be with him all the time. And whenever he wasn’t he felt alone and awful. He had stopped worrying about that a while ago, deciding it was best to just let it be. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Crowley asked, wrapping his legs around Christopher to stop him from getting off the couch. 

Christopher smiled, elbowing him in the side. “I’m going to go get chips,” he said. He wiggled his way out of Crowley’s embrace.

Crowley pouted, crossing his arms as he watched Christopher cross over to the kitchen. At least the view was nice, Crowley noted, watching the slight rise of Christopher’s sweater over his bare legs. 

“Oh don’t look like that,” Christopher said, laughing. “I’m coming right back.”

Crowley sighed and rolled his head to the side, glancing at the T.V. He hadn’t actually been paying attention to it, kissing Christopher seemed like a much more interesting activity after all.

“Hey, so I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Christopher said as he poured a bag of chips into a bowl.

“What’s that?” Crowley looked back over. He had gotten into the habit of leaving his glasses off when he was there. It might have had something to do with how often Christopher praised their beauty. 

“My friend’s having a bit of party type thing tomorrow night. And I figured,” Christopher started wandering over, “since you aren’t working Friday, maybe you’d like to go with me.” He stood before the couch, shifting from foot to foot. “Ya know, as a date.”

Crowley couldn’t help but chuckle a little. It wasn’t often that Christopher was nervous, and when he was it was kind of adorable.

“You can just say no,” Christopher said, rolling his eyes. He placed the bowl down on the coffee table and knelt down on the couch between Crowley’s legs. 

“No, no. I’ll go,” Crowley said. He ran his hands up and down Christopher’s arm, enjoying the way the sweater felt against his skin. 

“Really?” Christopher asked. He placed his hands Crowley’s shoulders, leaning down a bit. 

“Of course.”

Christopher smiled and kissed him before flipping onto his back and settling down on top of him. Crowley eagerly wrapped his limbs back around him, placing lazy kisses to his cheek and neck. 

“So what kind of party we talking about? Dancing? Fancy suit and tie? Dinner affair?”

“Uh, she usually does do themes...but she did not tell me what it was.”

“Excellent! Mystery party, those are the best.”

-

Christopher knocked on the door and shook his head, laughing a bit. “I can’t believe you’re wearing that.”

“What?” Crowley asked, looking down at himself. He was wearing a shiny blue shirt, with puffed out sleeves and the first few buttons open. It was tucked into a pair of silver pants. “I look amazing.”

Christopher laughed again. He had settled for his classic green sweater resting over a pair of dark, flayed out jeans. “You like look a really gay pirate.”

“Not that far from the truth,” Crowley said, flashing a smile as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

The door opened. “Christopher!” the woman on the other side said. She had thick, curly hair that was all piled up high on her head. She smiled wide and they hugged. “Come in, come in!” Christopher and Crowley shuffled into the flat. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh uh, Kendra, this is Anthony. Anthony, Kendra,” Christopher introduced.

“Nice to meet you,” Kendra said holding out her hand.

“Thanks,” Crowley said, taking in. He smirked a bit and gestured his head at Christopher. “I’m his date.”

Christopher blushed, sucking his lips in. 

“Oh?” Kendra looked at Christopher with a sly grin. “Very nice to meet you indeed.”

“Everybody else here?” Christopher asked, clearing his throat and walking further into the flat.

Kendra and Crowley followed him into the living room. There were about a dozen or so others sitting or standing about in the brightly colored room. 

“Everyone! Christopher’s here!” Kendra announced, standing behind him, hands on his shoulders. The group quieted and turned to face them. Christopher was already bright red in the face. “And, he brought a date!”

The crowd gasped and all eyes were on Crowley. He found it a bit difficult not to blush a bit himself. 

“And a very fashionable date at that,” one of the women said, her hair long and colored like the rainbow. 

“See?” Crowley said, looking over at Christopher with a smug smile. “I’m fashionable.”

Christopher rolled his eyes and stepped down to the room. He was immediately grabbed on the arm by a short woman in a tight dress who dragged him over to a couch, sitting with him squished between her and the rainbow haired woman. “Tell us everything,” she said.

“No, wait!” Rainbow girl placed a hand on his arm before he could talk. “I don’t trust you. You!” she pointed at Crowley. “Tell us everything.”

Kendra placed a hand on Crowley’s back and steered him to the other couch, where he sat down between her and a man with a braided beard. 

“He’s the one you shouldn’t trust,” Christopher said, laughing softly. He looked at Crowley and mouthed ‘sorry’.

“You got a name?” short girl asked.

“Anthony,” Crowley said. He half-regretted his decision to come, but he was also really enjoying the way Christopher blushed and squirmed.

“Eh,” a man with black hair and eyeliner said. He was sitting on one of the chairs. “It’s an alright name.”

“It’s a great name,” Christopher argued.

“Shhh, darling,” rainbow girl said. She placed a finger to his lips. Christopher shook his head, eyes rolling slightly.

“You got a job?” short girl asked.

“Yeah. I work for a phone company.”

“Which one?” beard man asked.

“Oh you wouldn't know it,” Christopher said, giving Crowley a look that said ‘I’m helping you out but I’m also totally onto you’. “It’s small. And new.” Crowley nodded.

“What exactly are your intentions with our Christopher?” eyeliner guy asked. 

“Uh...to date him?” Crowley said, unsure entirely what the question meant.

Christopher placed his hands on the legs of the women next to him. “Can we please stop the interrogation?”

“No,” short girl said.

“Where did you meet?” Kendra piped in.

“The Jiggy Floor,” Crowley said, grimacing a bit at the name because, seriously, who names a club that?

“Some quality men from there,” beard man said, crossing his legs.

“And some not,” eyeliner guy said, squinting at him.

Christopher shook his head and mouth ‘I’m so sorry’. 

“Alright, children, alright.” A tall man wearing a white hat walked over to the furniture. “Why don’t we lay off the new guy, huh? Don’t wanna scare him off.”

“Yes we do,” eyeliner guys said, glaring at Crowley. 

“Mikey’s right,” rainbow girl said. She patted Christopher on the shoulder and got up. “Besides! It’s dance time.” She teetered over to a stereo, her too tall heels clicking against the hard floor. Soon music filled the air and most of the others joined her up. 

“Christopher, come here.” Kendra stood up, holding her hand out to him. “I gotta show you something cool.”

“Oh, uh,” Christopher took her hand and stood up. She started dragging him to one of the closed doors and he looked over his shoulder, holding a finger up to Crowley. “Be right back.”

Crowley nodded and glanced around the room. His eyes landed on the drink table and he hurried over, thankful to no longer be under attack. He poured himself some whiskey and tried not to down it all in one gulp.

“Sorry about all of them,” Mikey said, joining him at the table. Crowley looked out at the crowd of friends. “They’re just a little excited.”

“A little?” Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

Mikey chuckled. “Alright, a lot. But you have to understand, Christopher hasn’t brought a date somewhere in like,” he sighed and looked up a bit, “three? Years.”

“Three years?” Crowley asked.

Mikey nodded. His face fell a bit. “No one since Tom.”

Crowley’s mouth opened a bit, involuntarily. “Right. Big bad ex.” He downed the rest of his drink and poured another. 

“We’re just protective of him is all,” Mikey said. 

“I bet.” Crowley sipped on his drink. “But, uh, I wouldn’t hurt him.”

Mikey looked him up and down. “Yeah, I know. I don’t think he would have brought you if you would.”

The door to the side opened and Kendra and Christopher emerged again, both laughing with wide smiles. Kendra went to mingle with the others and Christopher came up to Crowley, wrapping an arm around his waist and snuggling up to his side. Crowley placed his arm around him.

“Cute,” Mikey said. 

“Thanks,” Christopher said, cuddling in closer. He turned, placing his chin on Crowley’s shoulder. “Wanna dance?”

Crowley nodded and placed his glass down, letting Christopher drag him over to the open space where the others were. 

Crowley liked to dance. He wasn’t particularly good at it, but don’t tell him that. He enjoyed it, and he particularly enjoyed the way Christopher laughed, spinning about in his arms and swaying their hips together. They had a few drinks, ate a bit of the food that was around, and had some pleasant conversations once the constant questioning was over. All in all, it wasn’t a terrible time.

After a while Christopher grabbed Crowley’s arm and dragged him over to the door leading out to the balcony. The sound was muffled, music and laughter filtered through the glass door. 

“You alright?” Crowley asked, following Christopher over to the railing.

Christopher leaned back against it, small smile on his face as he closed his eyes. “Yeah, just needed some fresh air. Starting to get a headache.”

Crowley stepped up to him, placing his hands on his waist. “You wanna head out?”

Christopher opened his eyes. “Probably soon.” He wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck. “Hey, thanks for coming with me.”

Crowley smiled, placing a kiss to Christopher’s forehead. “Of course.”

“I had a lot of fun.”

“Yeah, I did too.”

Christopher pulled him closer, pushing off the railing so they were flush up together. “Really?”

Crowley nodded and tilted his head so he could kiss him. “Really. Your friends are interesting.”

Christopher’s smile widened and he leaned his head against Crowley’s chest. “They’re more like family.”

They stood there in the muffled silence for a while, just holding each other tight, swaying slightly.

“Okay,” Christopher said, pulling away, face a bit sleepy. “Let’s go.”

Crowley had never really had a group of friends before. He didn’t really have friends at all. Most humans that were interesting died too young to make good friends with them, and of the friends he did manage to make, he never felt close enough to call them family. Well, there was Aziraphale, but that was complicated.

But, as he watched Christopher hug and smile at his friends as he said goodbye, Crowley couldn't help but think that maybe they could be that. Maybe through Christopher he could find a family. It was a nice thought, and, despite better judgement, he let himself enjoy it.


	7. Moving on and Moving in

Crowley squinted at his calendar as if it had personally offended him. In a way it did. There was a large, red circle around Tuesday, and he hadn’t put it there. He hummed as he glared at it, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Mornin’,” Christopher said, walking into the kitchen. He was wearing one of Crowley’s old shirts, hair sleep tousled and smile soft on his face.

Crowley hadn’t originally been too eager to have Christopher be over at his place. He was too keen on having anyone over at his place. But Christopher’s flat was just too small. At first the cramped areas had been nice, forcing to be close. But it quickly wore off and so now they spent more time at Crowley’s. 

Christopher’s bare feet tapped against the tile as he made his way over to the coffee machine, pouring himself a mug. 

“Hey,” Crowley said. He turned the calendar to him. “You do this?” Christopher smiled and nodded. “What is it for?”

“Guess.”

Crowley sighed, giving him a look. Christopher just kept smiling, slurping at his coffee. Crowley looked back down at the calendar. He frowned. “Art gallery thing?” Christopher shook his head. “Party?” No. He rubbed his chin. Christopher’s birthday had been three months ago and Crowley had told him his was last month. He shook his head and looked up at Christopher.

Christopher chuckled. “Keep going. You’ll get there.”

Crowley glared at him then looked back down. Tuesday...Tuesday...what was important about Tuesday? He looked at the date. It did sound familiar. Had they talked about something before? 

His mouth opened. “Oh,” he said.

Christopher put his mug down, hopping up on the counter. “Oh?”

Crowley blinked a bit, smiling. He slid over, hands resting on Christopher’s thighs. “A whole year huh?” he asked.

Christopher nodded, smile widening. “Who’d have thunk?”

Crowley leaned forward, his hands sliding up Christopher’s legs. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

Christopher grabbed Crowley’s face and kissed him. “We don’t have to do anything special,” he said. “I just wanted to make you aware.”

Crowley kissed him back. “Oh we’re doing something.” His hands slid up further, fingers inching under the hem of the shirt. “I’m taking off work and we’re spending the whole morning in bed.”

Christopher hummed and slid his hands around to the back of Crowley’s neck, playing with the hair there. 

“Then,” Crowley nipped at Christopher’s jaw. “I’m taking you out to lunch. Somewhere fancy.”

“How fancy?”

“The Ritz,” Crowley said. 

“Oh, fuck, so, like, super fancy.”

Crowley laughed and kissed his cheek. “Only the best.”

“Alright.” Christopher adjusted, sitting forward a bit, pushing Crowley’s hands up to his waist. “But then I’m cooking dinner for you.” He placed his head against Crowley’s, devilish smile on his face. “And desert.”

Crowley let out a shaky breath, the prospect of the day sending a shiver up his spine. “Maybe I’ll just take today off,” he said. “Get a head start on things.”

Christopher laughed and kissed him, before patting him on the arm. “I still have to go to work today,” he announced. 

Crowley groaned and shifted back to the side, letting Christopher hop off. A few months ago Christopher and Kendra had bought a little building and turned it into an art gallery. It made pretending to have a normal job much easier, as there wasn’t much to do anyway when Christopher had to work. 

“Cheer up,” Christopher said, a hard pat to Crowley’s butt. “Tuesday’ll be here before you know it.”

Crowley shook his head. Christopher went back to the bedroom to get dressed. Crowley looked down at the calendar. Tuesday. 

It should scare him. Somewhere, deep inside him, Crowley knew he should be scared. After all, this was a whole year they were talking about. A year spent with one guy. One human. That had never happened before. At least, not together. He may have ‘been’ with others for longer, but it was always the odd day or week here and there, never a full on relationship where he saw them practically every day.

But Crowley wasn’t scared. When he had first realized what Tuesday was, he felt warm. And happy. He felt proud. He had finally found someone that actually made him forget about Aziraphale. They had made it a year and he was looking forward to all the years they had left to be together. Granted, he could only make it a decade or so before it became obvious that he wasn’t aging, but that was a problem for the future. Right now he was happy. That’s all that mattered.

-

Crowley woke up early Tuesday, arms reaching out across the bed to pull Christopher over. But the bed was empty. Crowley peeled his eyes open and frowned at the empty space where the covers had been tossed back. He heard a soft clink from the kitchen and rolled out of bed.

Christopher had a mug of steaming coffee in one hand and was struggling to open a pill bottle with the other. Crowley sighed, head hanging a bit as he walked over. 

“Another headache?” he asked, taking the bottle from him and opening it.

“Just a small one,” Christopher said, holding his hand out. Crowley tapped a pill out onto it. “It’s not gonna get in the way of the fun, don’t worry.” He tossed the pill in his mouth and chased it down with some coffee.

Crowley placed a hand on the side of Christopher's head. Strange thing was, most of the problems that Christopher had Crowley could just will away easily. Colds and stubbed toes were just minor inconveniences once Crowley got his hands on him. He was even able to keep Christopher’s wrist from getting too sore during long days of drawing. But for some reason he couldn’t seem to put a dent in his headaches.

“C’mon,” Christopher said, putting his mug down. He grabbed Crowley’s hand and gestured back towards the bedroom. “Bed’s this way.”

-

Lunch had been perfect. They had both dressed up a bit, deciding that if they were going to go fancy they might as well go fancy. The food was delicious, the atmosphere was pleasant, and the smile on Christopher’s face never faltered.

They even went for a walk after. Crowley itched to hold Christopher’s hand, his fingers opening and closing before he decided it was safest to shove them in his pockets. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually walked through this park before,” Christopher said, head turning left and right as he took in the scenery. “Ran through it a few times but never actually enjoyed it.

“It’s not bad,” Crowley said, shrugging. 

Christopher leaned over and nudged him with his shoulder. “Thanks for lunch,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anyway more upscale.”

“Thanks for putting up with me for a year,” Crowley said, smiling at him. 

Christopher laughed but Crowley was distracted. Up ahead, directly in their path of walking, was Aziraphale. He had a soft little smile on his face and was holding a bag of duck food. He reached in, sprinkling some of the mixture in the water, eyes lighting up as the ducks swarmed around it.

“Uh, hey!” Crowley grabbed Christopher’s arm and pulled him to a stop. “Let’s circle back, yeah?” He made a little circle in the air with his finger. 

Christopher raised an eyebrow and looked down the path. “But we’re almost done.”

“Yeah but, uh, this way we get to enjoy the park even more,” Crowley said. He smiled, knowing it didn’t look right. 

Christopher gave him a look and started walking again, backwards, so he could keep looking at Crowley. Crowley sighed and walked after him, grabbing his arm and holding him back again.

“Alright, fine. Aziraphale is over there.”

Christopher’s eyes brightened up. “Really?” He spun around, fighting Crowley’s pull backwards, and scanning over the faces of those in the park. “Where?”

“Let’s just go,” Crowley said.

“Aw come on! I wanna see him.”

“Nope!” Crowley managed to successfully get him back a few steps, the soft laughs from Christopher letting him know he wasn’t being too rough.

“Hey, Aziraphale!” Christopher called out. 

Aziraphale’s head popped up and he looked over, eyes landing on Crowley. He mouthed Crowley’s name, head tilting a bit, eyebrows furrowing. Christopher was absolutely giddy with himself.

Crowley covered his face with one hand and pulled Christopher away with the other, finding that he was much more accommodating now. Christopher laughed, falling into step with him.

“Oh, he’s cute,” Christopher said. “He’s got like that, stuffy English professor look, ya know? With the jacket.”

“Yeah,” Crowley said. He shoved his hands in his pockets again, this time to fight his desire to slap Christopher. He scowled.

“Alright, hold on.” Christopher placed a hand on Crowley’s arm and he stopped. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

Crowley groaned. “I don’t...look, I’m over him okay? So there’s no need to...bring him up or anything.”

“Oh, Anthony, hun.” Christopher gave him a slightly pitiful look. “You are never going to be over him.”

“Yes I will. I am!”

Christopher bit his lip and then grabbed Crowley’s arms. “You know you talk in your sleep, right?” Crowley leaned back a bit. “He tends to come up.”

“W-well that doesn’t mean anything! I’m sure I talk a lot about space! Doesn’t mean I love space.”

“But, you do love space.”

Crowley waved his arms, breaking Christopher’s contact. “That doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean anything. I do not love-”

“Crowley?”

They turned, Crowley’s arms still splayed out in the air. Aziraphale had approached them, empty bag in hand. 

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said. He gulped and lowered his arms. 

“Oh my god, yes,” Christopher whispered, bouncing a bit. 

“Is everything alright?” Aziraphale asked. He glanced at Christopher and then back at Crowley, eyebrows raised slightly. 

“‘S fine,” Crowley said, looking away. 

Christopher nudged him with his elbow. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

Crowley glared at him. Christopher just smiled. “Aziraphale,” he took a deep breath, teeth grinding together, “this is Christopher.”

“Nice to meet you,” Christopher said, shaking Aziraphale’s hand. “Anthony’s told me so much about you.”

Aziraphale turned a raised eyebrow to Crowley. “Really?”

“No, actually.” Christopher stepped between them. “So, what do you do, where do you work?”

“Christopher,” Crowley warned. He just waved back at him.

Aziraphale’s attention bounced between the two of them. “Well, I own a bookshop,” he said. 

“Oh, that explains it.” Christopher nodded down at Aziraphale’s outfit. Aziraphale looked down at it, picking at it, confused.

“We really ought to go,” Crowley said, grabbing Christopher’s arm. 

“Ah, ah, ah, I’m not done yet.” Christopher shrugged out of his grasp.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said. “But how do you know Crow-Anthony?”

“Oh we met about a year ago,” Christopher said. “One thing led to another and, well, you know.” He leaned forward, eyebrows rising a bit. “You know.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale’s face formed into a soft frown. “I’m afraid I do know, yes.”

Crowley grabbed Christopher’s arm again, giving him no option to squeeze out this time. “We’re gonna be late,” he hissed, dragging him away. 

“It was nice to meet you!” Christopher called after Aziraphale, who stood there, hands bothering the bag, watching them leave.

“What was that about?” Crowley asked, not releasing Christopher until they were back on the streets. 

“What do you mean?” Christopher asked, smoothing down the wrinkles in his sleeve. 

“That! With Aziraphale! What was that!?”

“I was trying to make him jealous.”

“What?”

“It’s a classic tactic,” Christopher explained. “You know, make him jealous with the guy you’re with and he’ll realize how much he wants you and voila! You’re dating.”

“Wait a minute, hold on, just, wait.” Crowley grabbed Christopher’s wrist and pulled him into a space between two buildings. “We’re dating.”

“Yes.”

“We are out, currently celebrating our anniversary.”

Christopher nodded. “That is accurate.”

“So why are you trying to set me up with someone?”

“Because that someone is Aziraphale. And if you have the opportunity to be with him you should take it.”

Crowley had to lean back against the wall. “What?”

Christopher smiled. He pressed forward, hands on Crowley’s waist. “If you have the chance to be with Aziraphale, such as making him jealous at your current date, then you should.”

Crowley’s mouth hung open. He wasn’t even sure he was hearing him right. “Why would you want me to date him?”

“Cause you’d be happy.” Christopher advanced further, one leg sliding between Crowley’s. “And that would make me happy.”

Crowley gulped, his mouth snapping shut. He never had someone who wanted him to be happy, at least, not at the expense of their own happiness. And then here was Christopher, willing to break up with him so he could be with Aziraphale.

“You’re weird,” Crowley managed to croak out.

Christopher tilted his head, biting his lip ever so softly as he smiled. “Thought that was why you liked me.”

Crowley couldn’t take it. He pushed forward, pinning Christopher to the other wall, kissing him hard, like he hadn’t kissed him in days. Christopher laughed, grabbing Crowley’s face in his hands to slow the kiss down to a more normal pace.

Crowley growled a bit as he pulled away. He really wanted, no, needed to spend every moment with him. “I have something to show you,” he whispered.

“Lead the way.”

-

Something turned out to be a large, quite modern looking flat. It had appeared on the top of a building not too far away from the art gallery, and the building manager was all too eager to show them up. 

“What do you think?” Crowley asked. A little set of stairs led down to the living room and they descended it slowly. 

Christopher glanced around. “It’s nice. What is it?”

“Well I was thinking it could be ours,” Crowley said. He spread his arms out and walked around the living room and kitchen. “Lots of space,” he said. “Oh, and look at this!” He grabbed Christopher’s arm and led him over to the wall of slanted windows looking out to the city below them. “Perfect place for you to draw, hm? Look, look.” He climbed up on the edge of the window, a thick block that could easily hold cushions and people. “See? Comfy.”

“Lots of good light,” Christopher said, nodding as he looked the windows up and down.

“Exactly! Oh, and you’ll love the tub!” He clambered off the edge and led Christopher through the spacious bedroom (with a sky light) into the bathroom with a large, claw-foot tub. “Cool, huh?”

Christopher nodded and wandered back out to the living area, looking about, touching a few features here and there. 

“Well?” Crowley asked, following him out. He was fidgeting now, the excitement at the prospect of moving in together now drowned out by the fear of being turned down. Of moving ‘too fast’.

“You want to move in with me?” Christopher asked. He stopped in the center of the room and Crowley stood before him. 

Crowley shrugged. “Yeah.”

Christopher wrapped his arms around Crowley’s neck and he took that as a good sign, smiling and grabbing his waist. 

“Why?” Christopher asked.

“Huh?”

“Why do you want to move in with me?”

“Oh, uh, well, cause I like being with you. And spending time with you. And it’s just easier this way.”

“And.”

“And?”

Christopher smiled a bit, then licked his lips. He looked away and then released Crowley, stepping back. “It’s a nice place but, uh, I think we’re still missing a reason.”

Crowley trailed after him slowly. “What do you mean?”

Christopher stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Well, wanting to be together is great. But there’s usually a deeper meaning under it. Ya know?”

Crowley shook his head. Christopher started to ascend, one slow step at a time. “You know. Four letters? Starts with an L?”

Crowley’s body went still. Of course. Christopher stood at the top of the steps, looking down at him, leaning over the railing slightly. Crowley had told people he loved them before. But as he looked up into Christopher’s blue eyes he knew this was different.

Because this time he meant it.

He licked his lips but his mouth had gone completely dry. “Christopher I...I...oh don’t make me say it!”

Christopher shrugged and turned around, hand grabbing for the doorknob.

“Okay fine! I love you!” It felt good. It didn’t feel weird or hard or embarrassing like he thought it would be. It felt warm and safe. Christopher turned around, sly smile on his face. “I love you,” Crowley repeated.

Christopher nodded. “Yeah. I know.” Crowley gave him a look and he laughed. “I love you, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Crowley felt something in his chest. Not uncomfortable, just unusual. Just strange. Just new. Christopher bounced down the steps and Crowley ran up to meet him, pulling him into a hug. 

“So, you wanna move in here with me?” Crowley asked, keeping his face buried in Christopher’s neck.

“Have you seen the windows in here? Hell yeah!”

Crowley laughed and held him close. Okay, so maybe he would never be over Aziraphale. What did that matter when he had the next best thing?


	8. Picture taken moments before disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoy the last moments of peace before it goes down.  
it's coming. There's no stopping it. why did I do this to myself?

Christopher closed his notebook. His eyes were closed. He leaned his head back, resting it on Crowley’s shoulder. They sat cuddled together in one of the windows, Crowley watching as he worked.

Crowley reached up, brushing the hair off Christopher’s forehead so he could place a gentle kiss to it. Christopher smiled, sighing as he turned his head and snuggled back against him more.

“You okay?” Crowley asked. Christopher nodded. “Headache?” Another nod. 

Crowley hated it. It didn’t make any sense. They had been living together for four months now. (Officially for only two weeks, Christopher told him, as that’s when they actually unpacked the last box). And ever since the headaches had just been more and more frequent. And nothing Crowley could do seemed to be able to stop them. He didn’t want to suggest it. After all, what would a human do that a demon couldn’t? But it slipped out anyway.

“Maybe you should see a doctor or something.”

Christopher sighed, eyes clenched tight as the headache increased. “Maybe,” he mumbled.

“Alright. C’mon.” 

Crowley expertly maneuvered under and around Christopher until he was lifting him up, carrying him to the bedroom.

“It’s fine,” Christopher said in a totally convincing tone as Crowley laid him down. “Just need a minute.”

Crowley crawled in next to him, gently touching the side of his face. He may not be able to get rid of the headaches but he could miracle Christopher asleep so he wouldn't have to suffer through them. It was something.

Crowley turned on his back and Christopher instinctively curled up to his side. Crowley ran a hand up and down Christopher’s back as he looked up at the skylight. There were a few brightly colored leaves that had winded up on it. He blew gently and the leaves fluttered away, revealing the cloudy sky above. 

He thought about. He thought about it a lot. There was a very good chance that there was something he could do about the headaches. Or rather, that there was someone he knew that could do something about it. But Aziraphale hadn’t spoken to him since the park incident. It wasn’t unusual for the two of them to go long distances of time without conversation. But this time felt different. Almost definitive. Every day that passed just made the pool of worry and doubt grow larger in his stomach. He had Christopher. And that was perfect. But not having Aziraphale still felt like shit sometimes.

They laid there in quiet for a while, Christopher snoring softly against Crowley’s neck and Crowley trying not to think too much. Which he failed at. And then the phone rang.

Crowley was about to miracle it quiet but Christopher grunted softly and lifted his head. “Will you see who that is?”

Crowley nodded and carefully got out of bed, making sure Christopher’s head was resting well on a pillow. He walked down to the phone and picked it up.

“Yeah?” (Christopher had taken to answering the phone as ‘Christopher and Anthony’s, Christopher speaking’. Crowley was working on it).

“Anthony, hey.” It was Mikey. “Christopher there?”

“Yeah. He’s taking a nap.”

“Oh. Well, hey, if you guys are interested that new club down on Fifth is opening tonight. Thought you guys might want to go.”

“Uh. I can ask him. But I don’t think he’ll be up to it.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, not feeling too well.”

There was a few seconds of silence and Crowley briefly wondered if they had gotten disconnected. “Just have him call me when he’s up.” And then the line went dead.

Crowley looked at the phone before hanging up. What was that about? He wandered back to the bedroom, falling onto the bed and cuddling up around Christopher.

“Who was it?” Christopher asked, voice still sleep laden. 

“Mikey. Wanted to go out tonight.”

“That sounds like fun.” Christopher cuddled closer. “You can wear those ridiculous silver pants of yours.” He chuckled.

“They’re stylish! But we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I told him you weren’t feeling well.”

Christopher hummed a solid note. “Shouldn’t have done that.”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“That what’s Thom used to say.” Christopher’s grip tightened around Crowley’s arms. “Whenever he didn’t want me going places. He didn’t want me to go many places.”

Crowley clenched his jaw tight to fight the urge to squeeze Christopher in a hug so tight it broke his back. “Please tell me where this asshole lives. I promise I will make it a slow and torturous death.”

Christopher chuckled again. He patted Crowley’s arm. “No. It’s okay. Really. It was forever ago. It’s fine.”

It’s not fine, Crowley thought as he curled tighter around his boyfriend. (He had only started calling him that two weeks ago. Figured since moving in was official he might as well). “You want to go tonight?”

“Only if you wear those pants.”

“Deal.”

-

Pamplemousse was a hopping place. It helped that it was opening night. With Crowley around, however, they were able to get right in, much to Christopher’s delight. (He had chugged three mugs of coffee and probably one too many pain pills and was much better by the evening). The music was good, if not a bit loud, and it was just the perfect amount of lighting that you could see what you were doing while still able to enjoy the atmosphere. Crowley had a feeling this club would do really well.

“Oh my god,” Christopher said. “Yes.”

Crowley looked over and followed Christopher and Mikey’s gaze to his pants. They sparkled slightly in the revolving lights. He smiled. Excellent.

“Oh, we gotta get those on the dance floor!” Christopher grabbed his arm and pulled him away, Mikey calling after him that he would go get some drinks.

Generally, Crowley didn’t like going to clubs with Christopher. Too many people tended to think they had a chance, trying to dance with him, touch him, steal him away for a conversation. But Crowley found that as long as he held Christopher close and kissed him every few seconds, the bravery of those around them lessened considerably.

They were only half a song in when someone tried it, grabbing Christopher’s arm and tugging. Crowley looked at them with a glare, ready to scare them off. But it was Mikey, drinkless and with panic in his eyes.

“We gotta go,” he said.

“We just got here,” Christopher argued, trying to pull his arm free.

“Trust me,” Mikey growled. 

Christopher squinted at him, then turned around, looking around at the club. He saw whatever it was that Mikey had seen and his eyes went wide, his face turning pale.

“What?” Crowley asked. “What’s wrong.” He tried to spot what they had seen but he was being pulled away, shuffled through the mass of dancers and towards the door.

“Fuck,” Mikey whispered, turning the group around. He and Christopher were looking away from the door while Crowley was actively searching around it.

“What is it?” Crowley asked.

“It’s who,” Christopher whispered. His hand slid down from Crowley’s arm to his hand, fingers linking together. 

There were many emotions that Crowley was feeling at that very moment. Anger. Disgust. Panic. Anger. Fear. Anger. “Where is he?” Clearly the guy was by the door, otherwise, they would have slipped out already. Christopher shook his head. “Mikey?”

Mikey looked over his shoulder. “Red coat,” he said. Christopher gave him a look.

Christopher tried to hold Crowley back as he made his way over, but he found that his hand suddenly had a cramp and he had to let go. The guy in the red coat, Crowley had to admit, was attractive. He couldn’t deny that. But all the pretty in the world could never cover up a shit-ugly personality.

“Thom?” Crowley asked, upon approaching the guy. 

Said guy looked him up and down with a predatory smile. “Yeah.”

Good. Crowley punched him. Hard. Right in the center of his nose. Now his face would match his personality. Crowley watched with satisfaction as he reared back, holding his face, blood spilling down already.

“Anthony!” 

Crowley turned around. In the chaotic aftermath of the punch Christopher and Mikey had slipped out, Mikey leaning his head in to call after him.

Crowley left the scene, completely unbothered by the growing crowd and security. Christopher was half-way down the street. He was walking quickly, arms wrapped around him, hugging his green sweater close.

Crowley grimaced and he and Mikey chased him down.

“You okay?” Mikey asked, falling into step with him. Christopher just nodded. His face was stoic, not showing any kind of emotion.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley said. 

Christopher stopped, the others studdering to a halt beside him. He turned and faced Crowley. He looked up and down the street then hunched his shoulders a bit. A smile formed on his face. “That was ridiculously cool.”

Relief washed over Crowley and he smiled back. “Yeah?”

“Are you kidding? You freaking obliterated his face.” Christopher laughed.

“I’m pretty sure I broke his nose.” (He had. He made sure of it).

Christopher laughed again then stifled it, pulling his hands up to cover his mouth. His head shook. “It shouldn’t feel good. But it does.”

“It’s supposed to.” Crowley reached out and rubbed Christopher’s arms. “The guy’s a dick and he got what he deserved.”

Christopher’s eyes lit up and he stepped forward, pulling Crowley into a hug. “That was seriously bad-ass.”

“Yeah,” Mikey agreed. “Doesn’t your hand hurt?”

“Uh.” Oh yeah. That kind of stuff usually was supposed to. “Adrenaline,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll hurt in the morning.”

Christopher chuckled and pulled back, grabbing Crowley’s non-punching arm. “Well, then let's get you really drunk. You’re gonna be in pain in the morning might as well be in a lot of it.”

Crowley laughed and let Christopher pull him to the nearest bar. Punching that guy had felt good. But knowing that Christopher appreciated and enjoyed it made it all the better. Crowley made himself a promise. He would protect Christopher from anyone and anything, punching his way to a happier life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too bad you can't punch cancer, huh, Crowley?


	9. An unfortunate turn of events

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's happening 😭😭😭  
Sorry this is taking so long. It just...it hurts! it hurts and I am soft and it takes me forever to write angst like this 😩😩  
But thank you all for reading and waiting and keeping up with it <3

It was good. Life, for once, was good. Crowley had gotten a ‘promotion’ that let him stay home more often. The art gallery was doing really well (as was Christopher’s own art selling goals). They laughed often and loved even more. It was a good deal, and Crowley let the next few weeks lull him into a sense of security.

It turned out to be false.

Crowley returned home from his actual job one day to a blinking message on their answering machine. He stared at it with a yawn as he took off his coat. Not many people called them. At least not where they needed to leave a message. Most calls were for Christopher, and if he didn’t answer there, they would just call the gallery.

Crowley thought for a moment that maybe it was Aziraphale. But he didn’t leave messages (for good reasons usually) and he still had the number to the flat that Crowley no longer lived at but still owned. It was good to keep some of his more revealing possessions away from prying eyes. 

He did think that sometime soon he should come clean to Christopher. But for now he was still figuring it out.

Crowley pressed the button on the machine, getting himself some water as he listened to Kendra’s voice fill the air.

“Hey, Anthony,” she said. “Look don’t freak out-” of course Crowley immediately started to freak out “-But I’m at the hospital with Christopher.”

Crowley dropped his glass and was immediately throwing his coat back on.

“He was getting one of those headaches and then he kind of passed out for a second. He says he’s fine but I took him here anyway.”

Crowley was out the door, while Kendra continued to talk, telling him exactly where they were, even though he already knew. He didn’t even drive, just walked outside and was there. The nurse at the admissions desk didn’t even seem to care as he walked into the hospital, passing through the doors in the back, following his heart to Christopher’s room.

He was lying on a bed in the center of the room, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as Kendra leaned over him, adjusting one of the pillows. Crowley steeled himself and entered, ignoring the panic that gripped at the back of his neck, sending prickles of cold over his skin.

“Would you stop it,” Christopher said, trying to push Kendra away.

“I’m just making sure you’re comfortable,” she argued.

“I’ve got a fuck tone of morphine in my body,” Christopher said. “I’m fine.”

Crowley cleared his throat and they both looked over to him. 

“Anthony,” Kendra said, smiling. “Thank god. Would you please talk some sense into your idiot boyfriend.”

Crowley was most definitely not thanking God as he walked up to the bed, taking Christopher’s hand. 

“No,” Christopher said. “Tell our idiotic friend that she’s over reacting and I’m fine.”

“You passed out!”

“Only for a few seconds!”

Kendra looked at Crowley and gestured to Christopher with a wide stare. 

“What did the doctor say?” he asked. He couldn't stop staring at the IV attached to Christopher’s hand. 

“They’re not back yet.” Christopher rubbed his thumb over the back of Crowley’s hand. “They did a completely unnecessary scan and are waiting for the results.”

“It’s not unnecessary,” Kendra scolded, slapping him on the arm. “You could have something wrong.”

“It’s just a headache.”

“That you have all the time!”

This time their interruption was caused by the doctor entering the room, holding a large piece of x-ray paper in his hand. “How are you feeling, Christopher?” he asked, taking a look at the computer he was attached too.

“I’m fine,” Christopher said. “My friends however could use some anxiety relief. They’re completely freaking out over nothing.”

The doctor took a sigh and it was not a sigh that Crowley liked. “I’m afraid it’s not nothing.”

Christopher’s hand tightened its hold on Crowley’s. The doctor placed the paper in the light box and turned it on, illuminating the image of Christopher’s brain. He pointed to a dark splotch in the upper left. “We found this rather large tumor. It’s hard to tell what it is from the scan alone. We’d really need to get in there and do a biopsy to know for sure.”

“What? Like cut my head open?” Christopher asked. His knuckles were white as he crunched Crowley’s fingers. 

“Not quite as extreme as that sounds,” the doctor said, a little smile on his face. “But yes.”

Christopher's hand shook. “Um, when?”

“We have an opening in the morning,” the doctor told him. “We’d keep you overnight for observation before and for a day after to make sure everything went well.”

“Tomorrow,” Christopher said, his jaw quivering. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

The doctor nodded. “I’ll have the nurse admit you.” He left the room quickly.

“Shit, Christopher,” Kendra said. She placed a hand on his head, smoothing it back over his hair. “Are you okay?”

“Could, uh,” he swallowed thickly. “Could you go get some stuff from the apartment for me?” He blinked and looked at her. “Like clothes or whatever?”

“Of course.” She kissed his forehead. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

He nodded. “And let everyone know?”

“You got it.” She kissed him again and then left. 

As soon as she was gone a tear slipped down Christopher’s cheek and Crowley’s heart shattered. “Hey,” he whispered, doing everything in his power to keep his voice calm. He had to be strong from Christopher. “It’s going to be okay.”

Christopher nodded but wasn’t looking at him. Crowley leaned over and placed his other hand on Christopher’s cheek, wiping the tear away. Christopher finally turned and stared at him, his jaw shaking and his eyes wet. “I’m scared,” he whispered.

“I know,” Crowley whispered back. He crawled onto the bed. It wasn’t exactly large enough but he made himself fit, pulling Christopher into a hug, wrapping him up in warmth. “But it’s going to be okay.” He kissed the side of his head. 

And it would be okay. Crowley was certain of it. He closed his eyes and held Christopher close. They would do their little operation and find that everything was just fine. In fact, it was a completely benign lump that they could remove lickity split while they were in there. There would be nothing wrong at all.

-

“I’m afraid it’s cancer.”

Crowley blinked and stared at the doctor on the other side of the desk. He held Christopher’s hand, sitting next to him. It couldn’t be true. They didn’t wait an entire week for results to hear _that_.

“Sorry?” he asked.

“Cancer,” the doctor repeated. “Ideally we could just remove it but considering its size and location it’s not an option.”

“This can’t be,” Crowley said. He gestured to the file open on the desk. “Run the tests again. It’s not cancer.”

“It is.”

Crowley leaned closer, teeth clenched together. “It isn’t.”

The doctor nodded at him. “I know it can be difficult to hear.” He reached into a drawer and pulled out a pamphlet. “We offer an excellent support group for loved ones of-”

Crowley stood up and slapped the papers out of his hand. “I don’t need your damned support group! I need you run those tests again because clearly they are false!”

The doctor took all of this in with the patience of a man who had done it for the last twenty years. “I assure you they are accurate.”

“This is ridiculous!” Crowley said. “C’mon, Christopher. Let’s go.”

He tried to walk away but Christopher just stayed in his seat, holding Crowley’s hand and keeping him in the room. His voice shook but he spoke. “What are the options?”

Crowley deflated, falling to the chair defeated. Christopher was just accepting this blatant lie. It couldn’t be cancer. Crowley had made sure of it. He sat there and steamed as he listened to the doctor drone on. There were a few things they could try, but most of them were expensive (not like money was a problem for them) and based on how developed the cancer was they had a slim chance of working. 

When all was finally said and done Christopher let Crowley drag him out of the hospital. In his free hand he held a series of pamphlets and a prescription for some good pain meds that would help with the head aches.

“That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Crowley said. They stood on the sidewalk outside, Christopher not letting himself be dragged to the car. “You’re fine.”

“Anthony,” he said in a slow whisper. He opened and closed his mouth a few times. “I’m going to go get this filled.” He held the prescription paper up. “I’ll meet you at home, okay?”

“You don’t want a ride?” Crowley asked, the sickening feeling in his gut saying that if Christopher walked away he’d never see him again. 

“No. I need some fresh air.”

Crowley stepped toward him. “I’ll go with you.”

“I need to be alone,” Christopher said. “I need to think.”

Crowley tried to argue but Christopher had already turned away. Crowley felt his hand slip from his grip, and it felt like his entire soul was slipping away with it.

-

It took Crowley a few solid minutes of standing there to move. He had to convince himself to not just follow after Christopher, to not insist they walk together, to not hold his hand and reassure him that everything would be alright. Because for some reason it wouldn’t. He hadn’t been able to help his headaches and now he couldn’t get rid of this disease. 

With a scowl Crowley stomped over to the Bentley. His own personal drama aside he knew someone that would be able to help. And he bit his lip as he raced his way over to the bookshop. The sign told him it was closed but that meant little to him. He waved the door open and stepped in, calling out Aziraphale’s name.

Aziraphale stepped out of the back room, leaning over to look at him, small reading glances balanced precariously on his nose. “Crowley?” He took one look at Crowley’s disheveled appearance and gasped. “Good heavens, are you alright.”

“I need your help.” Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s wrist and dragged him along, Aziraphale too surprised to fight or say anything.

“What’s going on?” he asked, getting into the car next to Crowley without prompt. 

Crowley sped away from the curb, not even bothering to give Aziraphale time to buckle his seat. There wasn’t time for that. There wasn’t time for anything. If Crowley was in his right state of mind he would have just miracled them there.

But he wasn’t so he drove too fast and weaved around traffic.

“What’s going on?” Aziraphale asked again, buckling himself finally. He settled in his seat and fixed Crowley with a hard glare. 

“You remember that guy from the park?” he asked. He didn’t want to go into too many details but he needed Aziraphale’s help. 

“Oh yes,” Aziraphale said, something in his voice that didn’t sound right. “Him.”

Crowley nodded. “Well he’s sick. And you gotta make him better.”

“Sick?” Aziraphale asked. Then he sighed. “Crowley I can’t just use a miracle to cure a cold. Why don’t you do it?”

Crowley slammed his hand on the steering wheel in frustration. “I’ve tried!” he snapped. “There’s something wrong with him and I can’t fix it!”

Aziraphale stared at him then nodded and thankfully said nothing more as they drove back to the flat. He didn’t wait for Aziraphale, just rushed in calling out Christopher’s name. He should be back by now. But he wasn’t.

Crowley raced around to the rooms of the flat while Aziraphale slowly descended the stairs, hand running along the banister as he looked around at the space. It was certainly nothing like Crowley would decorate on his own. It had Christopher written all over it.

“He’s not back yet,” Crowley said, panic settling in his voice. He knew he shouldn’t have let him walk away. 

“Why don’t we sit down?” Aziraphale suggested. “I can make some tea and you can tell me everything?”

Crowley stared at Aziraphale as he moved to the little kitchen area without hesitation. He knew, on some level, that this was a bad idea. They were adversaries. Mortal enemies. He was completely and totally in love with him and the idea about complaining about his current boyfriend seemed wrong. But Aziraphale was also his closest friend. And the only one who would understand his particular situation: being immortal and in love with someone who was dying.

And Crowley was too tired to fight it so he sat down at the little round table and told Aziraphale everything. Well _nearly_ everything. He didn’t tell him that he was in love with him and had picked up some guy at the club to replace him. He did tell him about the headaches he had and how Crowley couldn’t fix them and now some doctor ‘or whatever’ said Christopher had cancer which he couldn't because Crowley made sure of it.

Aziraphale made tea and then sat and listened attentively, nodding along and saying nothing as Crowley ranted. Crowley was a bit out of breath when he was done and they sat for a moment in awkward silence as Aziraphale chewed over the information.

“I’m awfully sorry,” Aziraphale said. “I can imagine how you feel.”

“So you’ll fix him right?” Crowley finally let himself feel some hope. Aziraphale was the best angel that existed. He had to be able to heal Christopher.

Aziraphale gulped, and there was a fear in his eyes that Crowley knew all too well. “I’ll try,” he said. “But if you can’t…” He left the rest unsaid, which was fine. Crowley didn’t want to hear it anyway.

There was a jingle out in the hallway and then the door was opening and Christopher walked in. He stopped in the doorway, looking at the two of them. “Oh. Er, Aziraphale right? Hi.”

Aziraphale and Crowley stood up as Christopher walked down the steps to them. Crowley resisted the urge to pull him into a rib-shattering hug. He settled for grabbing his hands, reassuring himself that he was still there. For now.

“Aziraphale’s here to help,” Crowley said. “He can help.”

“Are you a doctor?” Christopher asked, turning a raised eyebrow to Aziraphale. “I thought you owned a bookshop?”

“I do,” Aziraphale said, giving him a small smile. Crowley worried he would give their secret away, but he just held his hands out. “May I touch you?”

“Uh.” Christopher glanced at Crowley then shrugged. “Sure?”

Aziraphale stepped up to them and placed his hands on the side of Christopher’s head. He closed his eyes and Christopher looked at Crowley with raised eyebrows. But Crowley was too busy paying attention to Aziraphale. He was watching his face, contorting in confusion at every second that passed.

“Well?” Crowley hissed, because it really shouldn’t be talking this long. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said, letting his hands drop. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t! You have to! You’re a bloody angel aren’t you!?” Crowley very nearly let his frustration lead him to violence. But he refrained, balling his hands in fists and shaking a bit.

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale said again. He glanced at both of them and then looked away. “It’s not working.”

“Then what good are you?” Crowley asked. He would have time to regret that later but for now he wanted to be mad. 

Aziraphale looked at him with pity, not hurt. He apologized again, then turned and left. Crowley stared after him and continued to shake. Christopher’s fingers poked at Crowley’s fists. They loosened and before long they were holding hands, Christopher resting his head on Crowley’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Crowley whispered. He had been so wrapped up in his own pain that he hadn’t even properly thought about Christopher. About everything he was going through. He kissed the top of his head. “How are you doing?”

“I think I’m okay,” Christopher said. “For now anyway. I don’t know.” He sighed and snuggled his head closer. “I feel oddly calm. Like...I don’t know. I think maybe it hasn’t hit me yet, you know? That I’m dying.”

Crowley’s body seized up and he squeezed Christopher tight. “You are not dying,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m not letting that happen.”

Christopher chuckled. “I don’t think there’s much you can do to stop that,” he said. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Crowley almost told him but he didn’t. After all. Christopher was right. There wasn’t much he could do. If Aziraphale couldn’t cure him then there was something else going on. And even if Crowley couldn’t magically get rid of this cancer, he was going to do everything in his power to fix it in other ways. Christopher was not going to die. Not on his watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHH IT HURTS


	10. Bucket List

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time is relative
> 
> Thank you all for agreeing and continuing to love me.
> 
> And these bois...these poor, poor bois 😭😭😭

“It’s like fighting fire with fire,” Christopher mused as he settled down in the chair. Crowley sat on a stool next to him, frowning. He watched, silent, as a nurse hooked an IV up to Christopher’s hand. “Or like when they used to give you opium for a cough.”

Christopher and the nurse shared a small laugh but Crowley just kept scowling. Christopher gave Crowley’s hand a little squeeze and he looked up, still frowning. 

“You know, your face’ll get stuck like that,” Christopher said. 

“No different than usual,” Crowley mumbled.

Christopher smiled at him, then winced a bit as the nurse made the connection and opened the line, delivering a steady stream of poison into his body. It was always a little weird at the start, and Crowley squeezed his hand back. 

“I’m sure I’ve seen you smile before,” Christopher said, keeping his attention off his hand and on Crowley.

“Nope,” Crowley said with a shake of his head. “I’ve never smiled before in my life and you are a blatant liar.”

Christopher laughed softly. “Okay. Sure.”

“You’re all set,” the nurse announced then. She placed a hand on Christopher’s shoulder and gave it a gentle rub. “Just give a ring if you need anything.”

Christopher nodded at her and fiddled with the call button on the side of his chair. She gave that look at Crowley that all the nurses gave him. The one that said they knew this wasn’t going to work and Crowley would one day be all alone. He fucking hated that look. 

“We should go somewhere,” Christopher said once the nurse was gone. 

“I think you’re a little too attached to the machine here for that,” Crowley said. He was trying to be light and happy, but he was failing miserably. It was hard to be happy when you were miserable. 

“Not now.” Christopher chuckled and Crowley let a small smile break through. “I meant after this round.”

“Right.” Crowley turned a bit, so he could hold Christopher’s hand in both of his. “Where to?”

Christopher turned his head, looking past some of the other patients to the window. “Somewhere exotic,” he suggested. “Like...Egypt.”

“It’s dusty there,” Crowley commented. 

“You’ve been?” Christopher turned back to Crowley. His eyes had lost their sheen two rounds ago. They were more glossy these days. Crowley hated it. 

“Once or twice,” Crowley said. “Family trips.” He was getting pretty tired of lying, but he never seemed to have the energy to get it all out. 

“I’ve always wanted to go,” Christopher said. He laid his head back, staring up at the ceiling. “And Italy. But not the cities, ya know? Like out in the vineyards and stuff. A wine tour.”

Crowley shook his head, focus blurry as he watched the ‘medicine’ move down the tube. “Sounds like you’re putting together a bucket list.”

“I am.”

Crowley’s eyes closed. Tired. He was tired. “Well, you’ll have plenty of time to fulfill that, won’t you?”

Christopher’s voice was soft and slow. “Anthony…” He sighed. 

Kendra had said he was in denial. But there wasn’t anything for Crowley to be in denial of. Christopher was fine. He was going to be fine. One of these treatments would work and he’d bounce back and be his full-of-life self again. 

“You know...sometimes I wish this had all happened before I met you,” Christopher said. 

Crowley blinked his eyes open and looked up, furrowing his eyebrows at Christopher. “What?”

“I love you,” Christopher explained. He pulled his hand out of Crowley’s and placed it on his cheek. “I wish I could have spared you the pain.”

Crowley nearly laughed, biting the inside of his cheek to tell his threatening tears to stay the fuck back. Here Christopher was, in one of the worst pains imaginable, saying he wanted to spare Crowley his. Crowley shook his head and regained his hold on Christopher’s hand. “I should be able to spare you yours,” he said.

Christopher studied him for a moment then smiled. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Tell me a story.”

“What kind?”

“First thing that comes to mind.”

The first thing that came to mind was that time back in Rome when Crowley had gone to the coliseum and accidentally ended up being a gladiator for a few weeks. So he changed the names and lied his way through it, making it seem like a tall tale. Christopher smiled through it all, and Crowley told another, and another, continuing to reinvent memories until their time there was done.

-

“I really thought that was going to be a good movie,” Christopher said. He shrugged off his shoulder and tossed it on the back of the couch as Crowley dropped his keys on the table. “The trailer looked so good.”

“Trailers always lie,” Crowley reminded him. He walked up to Christopher and wrapped himself around him, kissing the back of his head. “Now let’s watch an actually good movie to make up for it.”

Christopher hummed and leaned back into him. “But where will we get the good popcorn?”

“You let me make that.” Crowley kissed his head again. “You go get something ready.”

They parted and the popcorn that Crowley placed in the microwave was not the same popcorn that he took out. Christopher was convinced there was _something_ Crowley did that made it taste just like the theater, but Crowley couldn’t give away his secret. 

Crowley carried the bowl over to the couch and stopped, frowning. Christopher was laying on the couch, already asleep, the remote laying limp in his hand. Crowley set the bowl down and picked Christopher up, careful to not wake him. He set Christopher down in bed and tucked him in, running a hand through his hair. 

He was always surprised by the things he could and couldn’t help Christopher with. Couldn’t take away the headaches or cure the cancer, but he could stop his hair from falling out. In fact, anyone who happened to be on the floor with Christopher when he went in for treatment found a similar reaction occur. It wasn’t their fault life was a bitch, Crowley decided. And as long as no one thought about it, it was fine.

Crowley kissed Christopher on the head and went back out to the living room. He sat on the couch and stared at the screen paused on the opening of a movie. He wondered if it was possible. Maybe he _could_ make it so that he had never met Christopher. Memories weren’t all that hard to change. 

But he didn’t want to forget. He loved Christopher, damn him. And he wouldn’t be able to let go. So he had to deal with the pain that he was avoiding. 

He leaned forward and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was being a terrible boyfriend, all things considered. Too wrapped up in his own shit to properly care for Christopher. He should be at least trying to be happy and light. If for nothing else than to help Christopher deal with...everything.

“Sorry,” Christopher’s voice, soft and light, said. “Must have just been a little tired.”

Crowley’s head popped up, looking at him. “You need the rest,” he said, trying to smile. He knew it looked weird. “You should go back to bed.”

Christopher held his hand out. “Only if you come with me.”

Crowley’s smile morphed into a genuine one. He got up and took Christopher’s hand. “Deal.”

-

Doctor’s were fucking stupid. That was the only explanation. _Something_ had to work! They just were too dumb to figure it out.

“I think I can actually see steam rising off your head.”

Crowley looked up from his now-cold cup of coffee. Christopher was smiling at him, finishing off his own mug. “Sorry,” Crowley mumbled. He shifted and sat back up straight. “I just really hate that guy.”

“You only hate him ‘cause he tells you things you don’t want to hear.” Christopher smiled his smug smile and Crowley tried to commit it to memory. Just in case. 

“There’s something else,” Crowley assured him. “Has to be.”

Christopher bit his lip and looked down at his mug. “Anthony...I need you to be realistic for a moment.”

“No.”

Christopher chuckled softly then looked back up, with a seriousness in his eyes.

Crowley sighed. “Fine.”

Christopher reached into his pocket and slid a piece of paper across the table to Crowley. “How much do you think we could do?”

Crowley knew what the paper was. He didn’t want to look at it. So he didn’t look at it.

“All of it,” he said. 

Christopher almost looked annoyed. “You said you’d be realistic.” He tapped the paper.

“I am. All of it.”

Christopher sat back in his chair and fixed Crowley with a hard stare that was not amused. “Because you’re secretly rich and money is no option?”

“Essentially.”

Christopher furrowed his eyebrows and crossed his arms. 

Crowley gulped, feeling like he wasn’t really in his body. This was why he lived in denial half the time. Reality was fucked up. 

“I don’t work for a phone company,” Crowley said.

“I kind of figured that out a while ago, yeah,” Christopher said. “But you also don’t seem the drug-seller type so...” he shrugged.

Crowley gulped. “I’m...not exactly...human.”

Christopher raised an eyebrow. “Alien?”

“Occult.”

“Witch?”

“Do I look like a bloody witch?”

Christopher tilted his head and looked Crowley up and down. “Kind of, yeah.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “I’m not a witch.”

Christopher shook his head. “Either you tell me or we’re playing twenty questions all night long.”

Crowley did enjoy the idea of avoiding his truth for as long as he could, but he didn’t want to spend the night like that. If he was facing reality, as he was at that moment, he apparently didn’t have too many nights left. He wanted them to be fun and full of love.

“I’m a demon,” he said. 

Christopher digested that, his face falling a bit. “Like, pointy tail, horns, pitchfork...that sort of thing?”

“More like giant snake,” Crowley corrected. “But, basically, yeah.”

“Prove it.”

It wasn’t an ‘I don’t trust you’ prove it, but an ‘I want to see something cool’ kind of prove it. Which was exactly why Crowley liked him so much. And why it would hurt too much to lose him. 

Crowley flicked his wrist out, the piece of paper on the table dissolving into hellfire, flakes of ash scattering over their heads as it burned away. 

“Hey,” Christopher complained. Yet his eyes had just a hint of their old sparkle in them. 

“You’re going to need a new one anyway,” Crowley told him, finding it impossible not to smile at that reaction. He was a little nervous, body on edge, waiting for Christopher to realize exactly the weight of what he had just said. 

“Is that so?” Christopher either hadn’t realized yet, or he had and decided it didn’t matter. And Crowley knew he wasn’t lucky enough for it to be the latter, so he decided he’d try to distract Christopher long enough that he would never realize.

Crowley leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “There’s so much you don’t even know you want to do.”

Christopher smiled at him, mirroring his lean. “Guess I’d better get a bigger piece of paper then, huh?”


	11. Pray that Hell or Heaven lets you in

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I watched Hamilton this weekend 😂
> 
> Me: Doesn't update for 7 months  
Also me: updates twice in one day
> 
> THIS IS JUST HOW I LIVE MY LIFE 😭😭😭 and I'm sorry but thank you all for putting up with it and me <3

Museums. Crowley wasn’t too fond of museums. For one, they spread knowledge and culture, which generally worked against his work-time goals. The stupid and uncultured were so much easier to tempt. But he did like the art, and he liked remembering the artists who had made them. 

He had gone to a museum with Aziraphale once. Well, they had coincidentally been at the same museum at the same time and decided to civilly enjoy the exhibits so as to not cause a scene and give the humans suspicion. They had laughed and shared stories about the artists they had met in the past. Crowley had started to talk about his brief affair with DaVinci, but Aziraphale had flushed red and hurried them along to the next wing, effectively ending the conversation. 

“He was so much more than a painter, ya know,” Crowley told Christopher. He crossed his arms, glaring at the display before them. A whole section devoted to Leonardo, and not a single mention of his inventions. “He was a bloody genius is what he was.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Christopher told him. _See every museum_ had been first on his list. And they decided to start local. 

“Pretty good in bed too,” Crowley mused. He smirked and gently nudged Christopher. “Don’t worry, you’re still better.”

Christopher laughed and led Crowley around the room. “How would you know, hm?”

“It’s been a while but I still remember it. He was good, but not as good as you.” He winked.

“Right,” Christopher said, voice betraying him. He didn’t believe Crowley. 

“You don’t think I could get DaVinci? Cause I got DaVinci!”

Christopher smiled. “I don’t think you were alive enough to get DaVinci. Maybe a great great great grandson.” 

“Not ali-? I’m a demon.” He did drop his voice to a whispered hiss. “I’ve always been alive.”

“Oh right, right. Still going with that, are we?”

Christopher smirked and walked away. Crowley knew he wasn’t that lucky. Christopher hadn’t bought the demon story, even if it was the truth. No one would be that laid back and cool with finding out their boyfriend was literally demonic. 

Crowley jogged up to Christopher. “I’m going with that because it’s the truth. Did you not see the hellfire paper?”

“You mean the flash paper?”

Crowley stuttered, sputtering about a bit. “Fine. You want proof. I’ll show you proof.”

It was dumb. He was dumb. Two people suddenly disappearing from the middle of a crowded museum would be suspicious. But he needed Christopher to believe him, even if it was risky and really, it was probably better to let Christopher believe a falsity. 

Yet with the snap of his finger and a grasp of Christopher’s arm, the two were no longer in the museum, but standing in the middle of Crowley’s old flat, mostly the way he had left it. 

“What the…” Christopher held onto the wall, swaying a bit as he looked around. 

“Wait here.” Crowley made sure Christopher wouldn’t fall over before he raced down the hall, searching for where he had left that sketch. “Aha!” He found it and carried it down to Christopher, who was steady and now looking at the space around him. 

Crowley showed the sketch to him. “See?” He pointed to the signature. “Addressed to me and everything!”

Christopher reached out with shaking hands, grabbing the paper, careful not to crinkle it. Crowley really ought to get a frame for it or something. 

“I…” Christopher looked between Crowley and the sketch. “Wow. Your ancestor looks exactly like you.”

“Ances-? THAT’S ME!” he didn’t really understand how Christopher could still be thinking it wasn’t. Now who was in denial? “How else do you explain suddenly being here, hm?”

Christopher let his gaze wander again. “Honestly? I’m pretty drugged up these days, and I figured I just blacked out.”

Crowley deflated again. He didn’t like being reminded about their situation, even though every time he looked at Christopher it was hard not to see the physical effects of it all. “You didn’t,” he offered, feeling a little sheepish of his outburst. He should have just let Christopher believe it was a lie. 

“So you’re really...really a demon?” 

Crowley nodded. “Yeah. I’m...really a demon.”

Christopher stared at him, taking a step back. Crowley hunched down and prepared for the worst. He very well may have to go around messing with memories. He may have to not spend the rest of Christopher’s days with him. He was petrified with fear. 

Christopher’s face contorted in anger and Crowley let his eyes close. He should have told him sooner. He should have never gotten involved with him at all. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Christopher asked. His hands pushed at Crowley’s shoulders, weak more from lack of muscle than lack of anger. 

“It’s not exactly the kind of thing you can just...tell people. Especially not when you want them to like you.” Crowley risked a peek at Christopher. He looked upset, but not really angry.

“You understand that we can _literally_ go to every museum in the world, right?” Christopher crossed his arms, glaring at Crowley.

“I told you we could do it all,” Crowley said. Not his fault Christopher didn’t believe him.

“And we could have been doing it all this time!” Christopher gestured about the room. “We could have actually done everything!”

Crowley blinked, finally understanding what Christopher was saying. He wasn’t mad at Crowley for being a demon, just for not saying something about it earlier. Which was fair. 

“We can still do everything,” Crowley said. He stepped closer and placed a hand on Christopher’s cheek. “We will do everything.”

Christopher tilted his head back, looking into Crowley’s eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he said. 

Crowley shook his head. “There’s no need to be sorry. I’m just glad you’re not, running off.” He laughed a little, nervous he was maybe giving him an idea. After all. Most people would react pretty negatively to this sort of thing. Demons weren't exactly high on the list of desirable daters. But, then again, Christopher wasn't like most people. 

Christopher smiled and closed the gap between them, placing his hands on the back of Crowley's head. “Where on Earth would I run off too?”

“No where I wouldn’t follow,” Crowley assured him. 

Christopher pulled down and they kissed. “So...what other cool stuff you got hidden away here, huh?”

-

That night they laid in bed, having spent the rest of the day in the museum of Crowley’s old flat. Christopher was curled up next to Crowley, his back pressed to Crowley’s side. Crowley had his arms wrapped around him, sighing softly as Christopher rubbed fingers over his skin. 

“Anthony,” Christopher said, his voice soft, matching the soft glow of the moonlight from above. “I have a question.”

“You have a lot of questions,” Crowley said with a chuckle. Christopher had had about a hundred, and Crowley entertained them all as he showed off his goodies from the years. 

“If you’re a demon,” Christopher started, “then that means Hell’s real. Right?”

Crowley didn’t like where this was going. “Yep.”

Christopher was quiet for a moment and Crowley almost let himself think Christopher had just dropped the whole topic. “Do you think I’ll end up there?”

Crowley tensed, holding Christopher just a little too tight. His perfect Christopher? In that hellscape? Surrounded by all that dark, dirtiness? Crowley growled, the very idea making him shake with rage. “Not a chance,” he said. 

Christopher turned his head back, looking up at him. “You think?”

“You are the very last person who would be there,” Crowley lied. Truth was, Christopher was a prime Hell candidate. But Crowley would be damned (again) if he let Christopher end up there. 

“Well, even if I did, it wouldn’t be all that bad.” He twisted in Crowley’s arms, snuggling up to his side. “At least then you could come visit.”

Crowley let out a breathy laugh. “Yeah. Silver linings.” He kissed Christopher’s head. “But you don’t have to worry about that. You’re a shoin’ for Heaven.”

“Maybe I’d rather be in Hell,” Christopher whispered. He curled up closer. “With you.”

Crowley bit his lip, just daring himself to crying. “Then you’re a fool.”

“A fool in love, maybe.”

Crowley nodded, kissing Christopher on the top of his head. He had to admit, the idea of being able to still see Christopher, after everything, was alluring. But not if seeing him meant seeing him in Hell. He wouldn’t let that happen.

-

Crowley knocked. He could easily open the doors with a wave of his hand. But something about knocking felt right. 

The door swung open and Aziraphale stared at him with a furrowed brow. “Crowley?” He looked up and down the street, then up at the sky. “What are you doing here?”

“I need your help,” Crowley said. He sighed, slumping forward a bit. He was so tired. Even when he did manage to sleep he knew he didn’t get any rest. And it wasn’t like he had to sleep. But with all the thinking he was doing these days, a few hours of unconsciously bliss wasn’t too much to ask for, was it?

Aziraphale held the door open further, checking around the area again as he let Crowley in. “What’s wrong?”

Crowley stood in the center of the shop, not sure if he should move to the back. He knew if he sat down he probably wouldn’t get back up again. “He’s dying.”

He’s dying.

_He’s dying_.

Realization hit him with the wave that long periods of denial brought. He wasn’t even aware he had started crying until he saw a tear drop splash on the floor he stared at. 

“Oh, Crowley.” Aziraphale moved up next to him. He fidgeted a bit before reaching out and placing a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

Crowley screwed his eyes shut. He didn’t come here to be pitied. He came here to make good on his promise. “I need you to get him in.” Aziraphale didn’t say anything. “Heaven,” Crowley clarified. In case he just didn’t understand. “He needs to get in. You have to get him in.”

“Crowley, I can’t just…_get_ people in.”

Crowley opened his eyes, knowing there was too much anger in them as he directed his glare at Aziraphale. It wasn't his fault Heaven had a stick up its collective ass. Aziraphale dropped his hand and stepped away. Crowley sighed, letting his face drop. Anger wasn’t going to get him anywhere. Aziraphale didn’t react to anger. 

“_Please_,” Crowley begged instead. He felt his legs going weak, but he wouldn’t stoop so low as to dropping to his knees. Not yet. 

Aziraphale’s face morphed to sympathy. He stepped back up to Crowley, both hands on his shoulders now. “I...I can’t make any promises,” he told him. “But I will do what I can.”

Crowley felt a bit of relief, finding it easier to stand on his own again. It wasn’t a guarantee, but it was something. It was help. It was another person on his side, in his corner. More than that, it was Aziraphale there. Aziraphale who was helping him, supporting him, being his...friend. 

Crowley took a deep breath, with a bit of a shake to it, and straightened himself, Aziraphale’s hands falling away. “Thank you.”

Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth a few times, looking around a bit. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Crowley did. After all, Aziraphale was the only other being on the planet that would get it, what it was like to love someone who was dying. This was exactly why Crowley didn’t hang around humans too often, and those he did, he left before he had to face this point. But Aziraphale was always hanging around people long enough to witness. If anyone could help, it would be him.

But Crowley wanted to be home. With Christopher. For as much time as he could get left. And he said as much.

Aziraphale walked him back to the door and held it open, glancing around and up again. “If you need anything else,” Aziraphale gave Crowley’s arm a tight squeeze, “you know where to find me.”

Crowley twitched a smile at him. The offer had always been there in the back of his mind, but it had never really been spoken like that. Not out loud. “All I need is to know he’ll be okay.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I’ll see what can be done.”

Crowley nodded back and returned home. He couldn’t imagine his Christopher in Hell. So Aziraphale simply had to succeed.


End file.
